


Not For Vengeance

by Tak



Category: Home brew RPG, Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-09-06 16:21:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16836202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tak/pseuds/Tak
Summary: This is the On going Tale of Bakara Urdnot. A Paladin Orc who is in desperate search for her kidnapped family.The Story begins with the Fateful night changing her life for ever and flows her as she makes friends allies and ... Other.





	1. In the Begning

About a year ago:

Bakara’s village was busy, by Orcish standards it was a bustling metropolis of Shamans and Warriors and those who fitted them with their day to day needs.  
Next to her Hut the Smithy clanged and hissed, a collection of young Orc's tanning hides and beating metal.  
A new group of Orcish youths were being anointed later in the week. Her youngest brother was one of them. One of the pieces of metal and leather being worked into fine armor would be for him.  
She threw four fleeces on the picking rack and called over her assistants to help her prepare it for spinning.  
Her contribution? she would spin weave and sew his Gambeson.  
He had been chosen as a Warrior for the tribe. His skill in battle inherited from their brave and ferocious parents. She was sure the tribe was happy to have one of her lineage actually take up arms.  
It's not that she, her twin brother or even her younger sister had been bad fighters, in fact every child Bula and Mol bore was bigger, stronger and more ferocious than the last. However they were very practically minded Orcs.

Bakara’s mother and father passed many seasons ago, so long in fact Dular had gone from a wriggling babe in arms to a grown almost blooded Orc in that time. Bakara and her brother Baudagh had not only taken the mantle of raising their siblings, but taken their parents place in the tribe as useful and productive members. Due to their own young age this meant helping with the village craftsmen. Between the two of them, they raised a flock of sheep and created quite a trade with the cloth and yarn they manufactured.  
Baudagh had eventually grown past the crafts and after he was blooded became a Ranger, he found necessary items for the trades people. He scouted the perimeter and where needed provided connection to the other Orc villages further a field and smaller than their own. Her sister, Murzush was half a head taller than she or her brother and nothing but raw power. As she grew she began to love the flock and tending to creatures so much she became a Druid.  
So The elders roared with glee the day Dular, with head and shoulders above all his older siblings decided to stay with the fight. More than one joke had been made about how likely it would be for him to become a healer or a shoe maker.  
Smiling to herself she took the large spiked Heckle used for combing and teasing the fleece. The heavy wooden pommel in her left hand her right hand holding the fleece and swinging it at the spikes of the tool. A shadow moved across the table and she recognized the shape. She moved the heckle low, she knew who it was and what they were up too.  
Her mate had playfully tried to smack her bottom with the flat of their sword. She caught it with her tool, and dusted his face with the fleece.  
“Back early?” She mused, unusual to see him by the light of day after a quest.  
“Can't miss the festival.” Kadan mused.  
She laughed knowing the truth. He was a good Orc, but still an Orc and when he wasn't questing he love to eat and drink his weight. Which was a lot. “Can't miss the drink.”  
“Can't miss you.” He chuckled low his belly shaking.  
“Fool” She kissed him and sent him on his way so she could finish work before the merriment began. 

While she had larger spinning wheels for spinning yarn Bakara often found herself drawn back to her first spindle and distaff.  
The hand welded spindle meant she could move freely, the distaff held the fleece on its long poll with sharpened point and the spindle it self as long as her forearm with a heavy weight at the bottom twisted as it needed from her left.  
She wandered through the village lost in thought and spinning the yarn.

Sun dropped low and the fires were lit and the drums came out of huts to start beating the rhythmic tune of the festival. She finally lay her tools down on the picking table with her apron and grabbed a flagon of ale. Smells began to rise for various fire pits as the festival foods went in for cooking. There were no pan flutes, no dancers clad in silks. This was not a festival of elven whimsy. The drums were loud, some were made of hide and wood some were impromptu and made from shields or armor or Pots or pans. The rhythm was hypnotic, and Unifying. Bonding the whole village together.  
As she watched the main attractions the young Orcs practicing their grappling and wrestling in the middle. An arm snaked around her shoulder.  
“We did it.” The horse voice spoke. “We finally raised an Orc.”  
“One out of four isn't the worst odds Baudagh. You’ve fought for less.” She told him.  
“And you won with less.” He laughed.  
“Good thing we are both stubborn.”  
Bakara enjoyed being reunited with her siblings even if it was only for a little. They ate drank and danced late into the night and into the wee small hours of the morning.

Bakara had barely slept. She had fallen into bed next to her mate. Who had obviously lost the drinking contest they were in. She was grateful the had the sense to pass out in bed and she didn't have to go looking for him.  
Her eyes were heavy and the bed was comfortable but something was niggling at the back of her mind.  
There were a few noises outside and wondering if it was drunken party goes getting into her work area she decided to get up and have a look.  
Rubbing her eyes as she exited her hut she was taken by surprise by a black clad individual. It was masked of a size relative to her own and just as shocked.  
While locked in the timeless gaze of the astounded assailant she saw more movement in the corner of her eye. This wasn't an isolated incident. The village was under attack.

Frozen for a moment, they remembered to act simultaneously the intruder grabbing their sword, Bakara grabbing a pot. She dodged under the weapons swing and clobbered him across the side of the head. She ran to put some distance between them. There was more than one assailant, it was a small army of dark clad soldiers primed for the drunk and tired state of the village. She tried to rouse any one near, but she was clipped in the back with a blunt object. Stumbling forward to her picking table she snatched up her distaff and used it to party the next attack.  
She turned to the villain, her free hand grasping at anything she could defend herself with.  
Her spindle was in reach. Yarn and all she swung it like a club, sending the attacker flying.  
Unfortunately she missed the second whose mallet hit her like a hundred horses sending her backwards stumbling. Knocking the wind from her lungs sending her falling through her picking table and into an unconscious heap under the fleece.

Hours later, she finally pulled herself from the heap, her village smoldered. A few towers of fire remained but most was ash.  
There were one or two bodies she recognized but in all, they were gone. No sign of her people or the invaders. Soon there would be nothing but the stone foundations and her memories left.  
She left her village for the first time with no intent to return, taking only what she could carry. her spindle and distaff, and a tattered coat belonging to her mate.

Day tuned into to night and became day again. She followed the shepherd trails then when they stopped, she remembered her brother talked about a road to the west. So she followed the setting sun. Her feet ached and her stomach growled. She had no food on her, but she found the road and continued west.

After a long time trudging following the road. Dusk grew darkness seeping through the trees. She saw a faint light of a campfire. She stalked the fringes of it. A paladin, armor intricately decorated with the symbols of a god she was not familiar with sat roasting a rabbit. She thought if her foot steps hadn't given her away her stomach might have, yet still they went about their business. They ate some but not all of their meal while she watched, tucked the leftovers away in a bag and curled up for the night.

Sneaking was not Bakaras strong point but the paladin didn't stir.  
She didn't hurt them or hold them hostage, she took the little pack of left overs and scurried away as good as she could to a darker corner of the forest.  
She hurried to open the pack, stomach slowly digesting itself, and with a small portion of rabbit, she found a note that read.  
“Really, you should have asked.”

She had asked in the morning and the Paladin feed her, invited her along for their journey. Time passed and she learned more and more from the paladin until eventually she too was a paladin.  
Giving her life to justice and the fire that she emerged from when she was born anew in the ashes of her village.

About a month ago:

Time passed, as time does Bakara never stopped looking for her family but as those early days passed she knew more an more the severity of the situation and that the sack of her village must have been part of a bigger plot. Perhaps those dark clad individual worked for some vile creature that needed an army. An Orc army unlike any other of size a strength they had never seen.

She traveled in the dusk as she often did on the more frequented roads. A 6ft Orc in armor no matter who the deity on it was a fearsome sight, and to avoid unnecessary fights she avoided the people.  
Tonight was still and sounds of creatures carried far. Suddenly she heard a shout on the wind. A cry of surprise, a clash of weapons.  
She jumped into action racing in the direction she heard the fight, sword drawn.  
She entered a clearing three black clad warriors held two terrified travelers at sword point.  
“Oi” She called out “That's not a particularly fair fight.”  
They turned, no comebacks no comments. A low growl emanated from them. These were the same that had attacked her village. Two more seemed grow from the darkness. Were they magic it was it a trick of the twilight.  
“I should have kept my mouth shut.”  
They rushed her, from all directions. She fought tooth, nail and sword. Bringing forward years of Orcish fury. They melted from her attacks but hit harder than corporal creatures should. She was loosing. One standing against many.  
Her sword flew from her hands and they came down on her.  
She was weaponless again In front of these foes. Her hand reached for her spindle the same as last time, her last bastion of hope.  
It was like her tools were possessed, or blessed. They hit with greater impact than her sword ever did.  
She was left bloodied and broken but her tools from her former life smote the attackers.  
She walked slowly to the hostages. Retrieving her sword from the ground dragging her self over to them.  
They cowered from her. Flinching away as soon as they were free. Whispering confused thanks as they gathered their things and scampered into the night.  
“Humans.”She scoffed to herself feeling the top of her left tusk tooth and the sharp break that meant she had lost the tip of it.  
She sat on a stump to collect herself, taking slow deep breaths of the night air. Trying to let it all wash off her.

Light grew from darkness and a form appeared before her.  
“Well well well, a kind and just Orc. Who would have thought.” The ethereal voice projected from the form.  
Bakara took a deep swig from her flask swilled and discreetly spat the bloodied water behind her. "Like overly judgmental gods, there's more of us than you think."  
The apparition chuckled. “So you know me for who I am?”  
“I know you Symeda. The fire behind your eyes is a good give away.” She mused.  
“You do not rejoice at meeting you deity Paladin?” The goddess was bemused.  
“Don't mistake my sarcasm for disrespect. I'm always this salty when I've just had the shit kicked out of me. Truly though. It is an honor.” She made an effort to take knee. To bow before the goddess. Despite the broken ribs.  
“But you won child against formidable foes." her goddess told her "A fight you can walk away from is a good one, but only for a Noble cause.”  
Bakara laughed “Nobel to an end, those beings…” She spat the word. “Are what destroyed my village. Took my family…”  
“Birthed you anew from ash?” The apparition raised a brow.  
The Orc smirked at her goddess. “You had a plan.”  
“I had countermeasures. And now to continue that, I will give you a gift. Since you rely so heavily on that spinner and its ilk of yours. I'll make more useful to you new life.”  
The goddess waved a hand and her spindle and distaff began to glow.  
They floated before her and transformed. Into a pair of butterfly swords. Their blades sharp, short and wide. Hilts strong a large piece of it coming over the hands to protect the knuckles or to reinforce a punch.  
“One side with help you hasten justice. The other to smite the wicked. You have proven you are worthy of them.”  
“Thank you.” She breathed looking over the blades and as Symeda faded from view they changed back into her tools, and she was left unwinding the ruined yarn ready to start again.

Almost present day:

Bakara sat next to her slowly dwindling campfire. The meeting with the God gave her a renewed vigor in her search.  
She was tucked into a little patch of trees just far enough from the road to not be easy pray for opportunists, but close enough to keep an eye out. She spun while she sat, keeping her hands busy. A small shadow had been following her, she was trying to look like she hadn't noticed. It was a curious shadow. She didn't sense it was a normal thief though she had enough sense to know it would most likely be a thief.  
She had prepared a small surprise if this Little Shadow had turned out to be rather nimble of finger.  
Keeping eyes on where the shadows lay with the campfire behind Bakara let out a long slightly over dramatic yawn. The orc packed up her spindle and Distaff and threw down her bed roll. She hunkered down to try and rest before morning.

The shadow, a particularly small Bastite crept from her curling spot on the branch to observe the Orc closer. Too big to fight but asleep whatever her well worn packs and pouches held could be taken. The cats fur was dark with soot and grime helped her blend further into the shadows only tiny peeks of her original white could be seen.  
Waiting for the embers to die down, and after what seemed like enough time to fall asleep, she silently dismounted from her perch. Hood up subtly checking no flashes of white gave her away she stalked her mark. The coin purse.  
With slow nimble fingers she untied it and stole away into the night to check her loot.  
She didn't travel far, just to a crook of a large nearby tree.  
Opening the bag to behold the loot she found some very small coin shaped Drop Biscuits and a note that read. "Really you should have asked."  
She almost hissed at the note but instead satiated her growling stomach with the offering. The Orcish creature shouldn't have been so snarky if she wanted her food back. She folded herself up and snacked and slept until morning.

Bakara awoke at the crack of dawn as she often did to make her morning Salute to her patron goddess. The lights rays cast red beams across the forest. Bakara's Shepherding days taught her it meant bad weather was coming. She still had more ground to cover to the next settlement so she decided if the weather was going south. She was going to treat herself, and any guests to a worthy breakfast. She began by setting up her billy, and putting out the few salted meats she had been saving for this very day. Warm and tasty smells began to waft from her location.

The shadowy Bastite awoke to the smells. It was mouth watering it was invigorating. She scampered out taking the note as invitation she snatched up some meat and threw the purse at the Orcs head. She sat at the furthest edge she could.  
"Do you drink tea Little Kitten?" Bakara asked returning her purse to her belongings and pulling a two rather beaten metal cups out of her satchel.  
Little Kittens eyes narrowed, ears tilted back, “It depends is it poisoned?  
"Yes." A dry smile crept passed a tusk. "With good intentions but I have a fifth of whisky if you'd rather?" She placed the second cup at the end of her reach and took her own, it was a mix her mentor had taught her to make from a few of the native plants. Sweet and warming, she slipped it and chewed a piece of meat  
Looking from Bakara to the cup and back again, she inched forward a bit one claw twitching.  
“Do you expect the cup back?”  
“I only have two so if you would like to drink tea with me again I will need it back. Or you will have to take good care of it.”  
The cup disappeared once it was finished Bakara shook her head and began packing up. She slung her pack on her back as a few drops of rain began to dot the Ground. She heard a scuffle behind her as she walked to the road. Thunder clapped and a wave of rain trickled down through the canopy the scuffle got closer and then she felt something small squeeze in next to her under her large duster.  
“I take it your coming along .”


	2. Gather your Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next few adventures for the two new friends.  
> they meet a new person become more familiar with the law of the area.  
> A demanding witch and rich cultists prove to be problems.

Weeks ago:  
A Revenant, a Witch, Cultists and more than one mistake had goaded her first week in the new village. Humans, she was surrounded by humans, they looked at her wide eyed and gave her wide berth.  
She made herself amiable by taking jobs. Helping where others were not able. Trying very hard to do herself and her goddess proud.  
The Revenant fiasco was a black mark that Bakara often tried to push from her mind.  
She would have loved to have said she took the job out of the goodness of her heart. The two travelling friends had in fact taken the job to act as bail for Little Kitten getting herself thrown behind bars very soon after entering the village.  
During the time in the tunnels of the mine, searching out what had killed many workers and scared off the few. The two friends happened upon a scruffy looking Hafling going by the Name Foxor Grassthorn.  
His method of conflict resolution was inflammatory to put it mildly, obviously whatever deity he prayed to didn't mind his self serving attitude or his washing habits.  
He was old, cranky and had a magic beyond just his Druidism.  
Some days she tingled with suspicion and awe, as enemies were rendered bludgeoned and not a hair had moved on his greasy head.  
For now she accepted him. She argued with him, but he had saved Little Kitten from a trap in the mine and those actions of kindness spoke loudly. They would however have to scream to speak over the top of his other actions.

A job on the notice board had told them off a little girl who had gotten lost in the woods. The Witch had kidnapped the child, not with malicious purpose, not for little girl stew but to be her student. The biggest mistake the Witch had made was assuming the child’s mother could care less.  
Sensing something different than the normal gingerbread trap Bakara had tried diplomacy. words had not been her greatest ally and at that point their their new acquaintance and accelerated the proceedings by walloping the Witch upside the head by some feat or incantation.  
In her goddess’ name she subdued the situation as well as for fear that they all would have been surreptitiously obliterated by the child faced Witch.  
“We’ll just go back to the village and say she’s dead.” Foxor blurted all but turning on the spot there to in act his plan.  
“We can't. She has a mother. She’d be heart broken.” Bakara protested feeling a certain kinship with the woman. “Can't we just tell her that she's learning a skill?”  
“To be a Witch? Shall we just bring the whole village here to set the forest on fire.” His sarcasm was hard to read under the anger.  
“Maybe we just tell the mother, don't say anything to the rest.” She pleaded “They probably won't even care.”  
Foxor grumbled “Why would she believe us.”  
“If we took the girl…”  
“She's not leaving.” Interrupted the witch  
“Perhaps…” Came the small voice of Little Kitten, “The wee girl could write her mother a letter?”  
“Before you do that, retribution” The Witch demanded and rightly so.  
Of them she sought the eyes of a specific female creature that lived deep in the forest.  
Somehow the found themselves relying on Foxor to traverse his woods until they found the trembling creature, so small it barely took up his hands as he held it.  
“I'm not killing it.” He grumped.  
“Awwwww it's fluffy.” Little Kitten exclaimed.  
Bakara frowned, “It's cute and all, but you tried to kill that woman. We owe her at least the action of trying.”  
“It's the last female of its kind.” He told her flatly putting the creature down.  
“Well shit.” Bakara agreed.  
“We have to tell the Witch. She may want to…Wait… Where are you going.” Her sentence was cut short by Foxor mounting his pony and turning around.  
“I'm going back to the village.”  
“What? I mean wait.” Bakara was left stammering, she looked to her small friend who shrugged and looked back down the creatures tunnel.  
She looked to Little Kitten and then to the hole. Her frown deepened. Moral obligation weighing heavily.  
“My friend did you happen to have any yarn?”  
They marked the spot of the creature and their path back to the Witch’s grotto. With a bright piece of yellow yarn Little Kitten had haggled the shop keep for earlier. It took the better part of the afternoon to get back to the Witch but they made their way.  
She was waiting at the edge of the clearing for them.  
“Well where are my eyes?”  
Little Kitten looked up at Bakara who signed. “At the end of this yarn is the creature's lair. We didn't kill it. We didn't get its eyes, because it’s the female of its kind.” She raised her head “If this was an important ingredient to you I thought you may want to start some kind of breeding or re population of the species before we killed it.”  
The Witch paused “You may have a point. But you still owe me something.”  
“We owe you?” Little Kitten squeaked angrily. “But we didn’t even attack you.”  
“Your friend, your debt.  
“Well we just kind of…” Bakara paused there was no arguing they were aligned with Foxor so they carried his debts with them.  
“What do you want?” She asked.  
“What do you have?”  
Little Kitten ferreted in her pack reluctantly pulling her magic knitting needles out.  
“And you?”  
Dead and tired Bakara answered. “I have 10 gold to my name and this coat on my back.”  
The Witch looked displeased  
“I have skills though.”  
“I don't need a Fighter  
“In another life,” She told the Witch. “I was a craft woman. I can spin, weave, sew, knit. What do you need?”  
At that the Witch’s demeanor changed. She went and retrieved a box and placed it in Bakara’s hands.  
“Spider silk steel. I need it spun.”  
It was gossamer, fine and silky and strong. Bakara smiled “It would be my honor.” It was something that could help her reconnect with who she was. The thought of spending the night spinning lifted her spirits.  
Pausing a moment before they left. “The Halfling we were with, he has returned to the village.” She struggled “I don't know what he’s up to, you know he can be rash… You may want to make precautions.”  
The Witch nodded and thanked them before sending them on their way.

Fire crackling in the hearth Little Kitten asleep in the pile of blankets on the bed. Bakara sat next to the window and spun.  
Slow going on the hand held drop spindle, but thanks to experience she spun a thin fine strand of the silk steel throughout the night.

Outside of the girls knowledge, Foxor had done a kindness by collecting the lost child’s mother and in secret taking her to see her daughter one last time before her training was complete.  
Under the cover of darkness the woman promised to commit to the rouse of her daughters death and to keep the secret of the WItch.

Sun crept over the sleepy houses as Bakara wound the silk steel off her spindle and into a hank around her arm. She made the delivery with a sleepy Little Kitten riding her shoulders and returned to the village before lunch.

***  
Screams welcomed them to the town square. Bakara instinctively ran toward the sound, where she found a body face down in the fountain. People had gathered to stare and whisper. She mounted the side waded in and pulled what was a frail old man from the water and lay him on the footpath.  
Little Kitten fished out a blanket and gave him some coverage to remove the spectacle.

Burt approached, he was a rugged middle aged man who was the moderately ranged arm of the law in this area. Foxor was also making his morning stroll through town and was drawn over by the noise and mob of people.  
“Whats going on here” Burt scanned Bakara and Little kitten both of whom he was quite familiar with by now and his eyes narrowed.  
Little Kitten immediately put her hands in her pockets and gave him her most innocent stare.  
“You know as much as us.” Bakara answered standing up for the corpse. “I was just trying to calm the crowd.”  
Burt lifted the blanket and frowned. “Old Harry.” He muttered and nodded to the deputies to take him away.  
“Old Harry?” The Halfling pressed. “As in old enough to fall and die?”  
“Old as in he’s been here a while, but young enough to be worried.” Came the cryptic reply.  
“You’ll investigate?” Bakara asked.  
Burt sighed “Honestly, He's a bit of a drunk with no family and I’m stretched thins with these Bandits Raids.” He pulled Bakara asde and by gesture Little Kitten and Foxor too.  
“The only thing is this is the fourth body like this. I’ll get Valenitra to look at it over at her lab but I think we will find him with a strange pattern on his chest and sucked dry of life.”  
Bakara’s eyebrows lifted “Four?” She lowered her head “Would you like us to look into this? Keep you free for bigger tasks.”  
Burt chewed over the offer.  
“It’s obviously a big enough to cause worry.” Bakara added.  
“All right, go, see Valenitra and see if you can dig anything up.” He brushed of any further conversation with a wave of the hand and went back to crowd control.

Valenitra Castro was the resident Mage, Scientist, Coroner and expert on dead and the undead alike. She was a youngish human woman with this glasses and brown hair pulled back into a ponytail.  
Bustling about her lab as the three approached they all got the feeling they were interrupting.

Bakara stepped forward. “Miss Castro?”  
“Oh yes.” She exclaimed “The Paladin, you found the body.”  
“The whole town found the body.” Bakara waved off the comment “I just took him out of the fountain. Water and corpses do not make good bedfellows.”  
“No they do not.” Valenitra agreed “Burt filled you in?”  
“That this is our fourth body?”  
Nodding Valenitra pulled back the sheet on the victim. “Old Harry, Bit of a Pisshead, harmless thought. Has all the normal bangs and scrapes from stumbling around but this… This is interesting.” She opened his shirt and exposed a radial scar centered in his chest over his heart.  
Five puncture wounds with dark lightning shapes of burst capillaries dancing out towards his collarbone and shoulders.  
“They are all like this?” Bakara asked. “All old nobodies and all sucked dry of any life.  
Miss Castro nodded. Bakara took a moment to breath in and process the information Little Kitten drifted off to the vials and devices about the room.  
“Where did he live” Foxor asked “He local?”  
Again she nodded and relayed his home address and any other information she could think of before ushering them out and protecting her things from a curious cat.

Old Harry’s house was a step above a hovel in the more shanty part of town.  
It was dark, musty and had recently been tossed in some sort of fight.  
The three unlikely comrades glanced over the place.  
Bakara was daunted by the mess and was worried there was going to be nothing to be found.  
Whistling sharply Foxor called in a rather handsome and well taken care of golden retriever. It bounded through the door and started snuffling through debris.  
Little Kitten set to her favored task of looting, she turned up shinnies, buttons, buckles, and a few gold pieces.  
Bakara deducted only that Old Harry hadn't washed his clothes or dishes in at least a week but nothing to help them further their quest.  
A bark broke the silence, the retriever snuffled and dug and came up with a small piece of fabric which it promptly handed over to Foxor. His face screwed up around his white beard.  
“What is it?” Bakara asked.  
“Just a scrap of fabric.”  
She reached a hand forward “May I see? It's never just a scrap.” She mused as he passed it to her. Turning it over in her knowledgeable green fingers she held it to the light. It was a super fine woven linen with a black warp and a red weft creating an illusion of shaded colour, or a hue that wasn't one or the other.  
“Not a lot of people in this town that can afford this fabric.” She muttered out loud “so what was a high roller doing here?”  
Foxor shrugged and shuffled out into the fresh air. Little Kitten ferreted for the last few stray buttons from the property while Bakara joined the Halfling outside.  
He sat on a rock offering his dog pat’s for work well done.  
“So is there a rich part of town?” Bakara asked him. Differing to his numerous years skirting the town.  
“Of course there's a rich part of town.”  
She rolled her eyes and sat on a small patch of grass near him waiting for Little Kitten. She had never met a halfling before Foxor, noticed a few flitting about the town but all the rumors the rangers brought back to the tribe about that particular race were nothing like the man she sat near. She had heard they were jovial, kind, helpful easy friends.  
Nothing about this Halfling was easy. Bakara had spent her whole life surrounded by family. Surrounded by people she knew or had a connection with, any hardship or trial they banded together, shared information. They made plans, they acted together. This was the biggest source of confusion for Bakara. So many individual factions, even when they worked together so many people were out for themselves.  
“I guess we should visit it?”  
“I am.”  
Bakara let her head fall between her knees as like normal the old man cherry picked his answers to be the most infuriating.  
Once Little Kitten exited the shack Foxor stood and leaning heavily on his staff, sauntered off.  
Little Kitten glanced at Bakara who shrugged and pulled her self to standing before following along at a distance.

The sun began to dip past the own houses. While still light at this point it cast long shadows throughout the cobbled streets.  
The market paid no heed to the hour nor would it until dusk.  
Performers scattered parts of the streets, with buskers and con artists.  
Two young men hollered from behind a table. “You Ma’am try your luck! Try your skill.”  
Bakara waved her hand politely but Little Kitten tugged her coat and pulled her over.  
As a follower of Ash and Coal, Trickster gods of luck and opportunity, tests of fortune were near enough to church.  
“One gold my dear to try.” He placed three cards on the table.  
Bakara took position behind her small friend, arms crossed and waiting for the inevitable con.

The cards were shuffled while the man made his speel. Some story about the illusive Red Queen and stealing hearts, running from the law and evading capture.  
Little Kitten found her with east and the two con men clapped with glee.  
“Double or nothing.” He cried “Since your so lucky.”  
Little Kitten clapped her paws. “Yes” She exclaimed “Again.”  
To that the cards were shuffled again this time at a faster speed. Bakara raised her eyebrow obviously the first was to lull patrons into a false sense of security.  
Again Little Kitten pointed to her choice with gleeful confidence, and again she revealed the Red Queen. The men running the stand were less impressed this time, but at Kitten’s exclamation a small crowd had gathered.  
“Once More.” She exclaimed.  
Bakara cleared her throat “Quit while you’re ahead?” She sensed something terrible could be brewing.  
She unfolded her arms and rested on hand on the pommel of her spinner.  
“Just one more?” Little Kitten pleaded with big eyes, the pile of gold had grown from one to four in the last two rounds.  
“40 Gold.”The con man said slapping down a clunking bag.  
Kitten grinned a rare and cocky grin “Make it 50 and you have a deal.”  
The two of them side eyed each other before putting another 10 down.  
He began the shuffle again. Faster and with more flourish more grandeur finishing with a smug look on his face.  
For a third time Little Kitten smiled, giggled even and chose her card.  
The crowd hushed waiting to see what she chose.  
The con man looked confident, Bakara sensed something was up but she wasn't fast enough to see it.  
Little Kitten reached forward and flipped her card.  
The silence lingered for a minute before the front row realized.  
It was the Red Queen facing Little Kitten.  
The space around the table erupted in cheers, the first con an hit the second who looked shocked and from his sleeve he produced a Red Queen of his own.  
Little Kitten had begun collecting her winnings as one conman grabber her wrist, Bakara leaned over and grabbed his.  
She grinned a chipped tusk grin at the human from over her friends shoulder.  
“That's some good luck you have there miss.” He said finally and left her to it.  
As they continued on their journey Little kitted Giggling with her winnings looked up as she heard a small thunder claps and a storm cloud gathered above her head. One drop, two drops and a cascade of rain poured down.  
It was an odd sight, the small cat scarpering away from her own personal rain cloud. After climbing under and attempting to find shelter it became apparent of its magical nature as the rain only hit her and missed anything she tried to use as shelter.  
Distraught Little Kitten followed her large friend who was politely hiding her laughter.  
“Why is this happening” The soggy Bastite cried in august. “I won. I took opportunity. You think they would be impressed.”  
“Oh I bet they are.” Bakara smiled letting the damp cat climb up to her shoulder as the rain dissipated. “But you have to remember your gods have a warped sense of humour.”

They continued their wander through the streets Little Kitten using her height to act as a look out for any of the individuals that could be wearing the cloth they had found.  
Tapping Bakara’s head she alerted her to a piece of cloth that looked familiar attached to a young human man. He met with three other young human men. The tapping crescendo from a light wap, wap, wap, to a mighty thump as the men talked moved on, and Little Kitten didn't see any change in Bakara’s pace.  
“Yeah, yeah I get you.”  
She followed the men for a while attempting to blend in as much as possible and where that failed just looking like she was shopping.  
Foxor did a much better job and while Bakara feigned ignorance, the Halfling used his speed his size and his experience to tail the four gentlemen to an upscale hotel at the southern end of the town.  
The Gentlemen entered nodding to the bouncer and disappeared passed the door and their view.

Regrouping by an alley as Foxor saw a kitchen hand exit the back of the establishment to empty some pots into the street.  
“Hello there.” Foxor moved forward suddenly becoming reliant on his staff. He ran a wrinkled had down his mostly white beard. “You know if your hiring?”  
The two girls looked at each other but knew better than to derail someone's plan.  
“I mean…” The young man began.  
Foxor flicked him a gold. “Nothing fancy just something for me and my compatriots.”  
“Kitchen staff could use another scrub and ummm guess housekeeping… but your green friend?”  
Bakara straightened her coat revealing the armor under it to give the young man a hint.  
Even though her past made her more suited for housekeeping, Orcs in the town were a rarity and her size spoke more than any skill.  
“Well I could maybe get you someone to talk to.”  
“That's all I ask.”  
The back entrance of the hotel was nowhere near as refined as the front. Hotels after all were for the patrons not the workers.  
The three of them were led to a managers door. The middle aged human man looked them over as their temporary friend left them.  
“You all want a job?”  
Foxor nodded “Yeah nothing fancy, I can scrub pots. Whatever you need.”  
“And I can clean.” Little kitten piped up. “and I’m very quiet.”  
“And you?” He looked to Bakara “Your big but have you had training?”  
“I’m a Paladin.” She said flatly.  
He grimaced “Some of our clientele isn't all that good or lawful.”  
“I can look away for a time.”  
“Don’t say that.” Foxor snapped “You’re telling him you can be bribed.”  
Bakara let out a hefty sigh.  
“I’m not so daft I can't tell the difference. If there is a fight I’ll break it up. Someone breaks in I’ll throw them out. Other than that your business is your own.”  
She crossed her arms and huffed through her tusks.  
“That a good start. You’ll all have a week. From there it's up to you.”

The first few days were uneventful Bakara watched the door and though she saw the four men coming and going they never discussed more than the weather in the foyer.  
She did spy the ripped portion of the cloak on the youngest, but by the third day it was fixed.  
She did find it odd that of the four men they listened to the youngest the most. She shrugged it off as humans respecting money over wisdom.

Little Kitten did better moving from room to room with Leita the Halfling woman she was paired with.  
As they went to clean one of the penthouse suit she tugged Leitas sleeve. “What’s their deal?”  
She asked as the door was shut and locked with a poignant eye cast over the wo cleaning ladies.  
“Eh. Just rich assholes, they rent one of the rooms a couple of times a week for meetings.”  
“Do you know what they do for money?”  
Leita shrugged and pulled off the sheets on the bed they were working on in the room adjacent.  
“Probably nothing legal, definitely something they don’t want us to know about.”

Later at the staff drinks, where everyone including Bakara and one of the human Barbarian bouncers came down into the kitchen and pooled their hard earned money together, the final pieces of the puzzle came together.  
“I’ll buy a round.” Foxor shouted throwing two gold forward. The first bottles were opened on libation splashed.  
Little Kitten got up and found herself a glass of milk. Bakara allowed her mug to be filled before tossing more coin in for another.  
“Those broker bastards were back again.” One of the cleaners whined, sighing almost in unison with another cleaner. “I know! Its like its a challenge now to see how much work they can make us do.”  
“Broker?” Foxor asked.  
“Yeah.” Answered the kitchen hand that had let them in earlier that week.  
“We figure any way. They in some sort of wheeling and dealing.”  
“You don't happen to know where they go after do you?” He gave it a shot.  
The kitchen hand boy gave his head a shake.  
The barbarian shifted uneasily in his seat. Bakara slid him her as of ye untouched drink.  
“I saw them head up old Jackson Road one time.” He told her, softly.  
Bakara caught Little Kitten’s eye who caught Foxor’s eye and the three all shared a moment.  
“Why would they go up there? There’s only one big house up there.” Leita asked confused.  
“I don’t know, they just went up there one night.”  
That was enough. Bakara made her polite exit, Little Kitten slipped out unnoticed and Foxor chucked a few more gold at the table before they all made their way out the door into the street.  
“So Jackson Road.” Bakara muttered.  
“Only one big house.” Her small friend replied.  
“She hazard and glanced at Foxor, who for once lingered rather than just forging a head.  
“No better time that the present.” He muttered At least to scout.”  
“If we see them we leave, otherwise we just checking it out.”

The moon was high and the mist hung low. Jackson Road was barren of all but tall pines. Carefully they walked as the dense foliage could hide adversary as much as it could hide them.  
Cresting the short hill they saw the two story home. A little run down and boxy in shape, the villa sat before the moon framed by trees in a small clearing.  
There was no light, no sound, no life.  
Bakara waved left to Little Kitten who saw her cue and darted off.  
Carefully taking a wide path the two girls did a pass.  
Foxor approached and tested the door before joining the wander around the building.  
They met at the back of the property greeted by a large wooden door to a cellar.  
“Locked.” Bakara muttered.  
“Not for long.” Kitten exclaimed swiftly dealing to the lock, in her element she made swift work of the basic three tumbler lock.  
“So much for just a look.” Bakara mused.  
Foxor heled Little Kitten open the other side of the basement door quietly.  
“Still just looking” He said frankly.

In the full moonlight Bakara could see well but peering down in the basement she saw nothing. A black hole that enveloped everything.  
“I can’t see anything down there, Can you?” She responded.  
“I cant but she can.” He cocked his head to Little Kitten who sheepishly nodded.  
“I can see pretty well down there.”  
“Do you want to lead us.” Bakara asked “I won't let you go alone. Just in case.”  
“Yeah I can do that.”  
They formed a line, Bakara behind Little Kittens shoulder, Foxor in the rear and they crept down the stairs.  
The basement itself offered o more light. Solely reliant on Little Kitten they walked forward through a cold narrow possibly stone passage.  
Bakara held her breath, feeling like everything echoed and a strange tingling putting her on edge.  
Suddenly there was a gasp.  
A squeak and she felt Little Kitten fall beneath her. Her own feet tangled in the fray and Foxor as well.  
The three of them fell to the floor through a door they had not seen and in a skittering mess thrown themselves at the feet of the four people they had been stalking.  
With unnatural speed and power, three of the men jumped forward and bound each of them hand and foot.  
The fourth collected their weapons that had been strewn before them.  
The one that held their weapons eyed them all over. Like a chief surveying meat that the butcher. He studied them for something, something held in their flesh.  
“The big one. I want that one” He growled almost beast like.  
Bakara tried to struggle, through her confusion but once they tied her friends the four of the cultists strapped her to the large wooden table.  
Proving their combined strength to be more than normal human strength.  
Her breast plate removed, ams and legs belted in place by thick leather straps, she struggled until they strapped her head back and rested a five metal point claw over her heart.  
Attached to an arm that lead to a chair the claw seemed part of what ever had caused the scars on the victims. Bakara’s heart began to race, the one that had spoken before sat in the chair and attached himself to the apparatus.  
It began to hum. Deep and low the sound came from the magical vibrations. The claw arm rose up, trembled for a moment that felt like it paused for ever, then slammed down into her rib cage. She screamed as a light began to leave her chest and body flowing through the claw into the cultist. Wrinkles began to fine out, hair began to thicken. All while Bakara could feel her essence drain. She felt violated, used like she was some creature for harvest. Burning hatred filled the gaps of the pain left as the machine stopped its first round.  
She prayed.  
Bakara gave her burning rage up to her goddess Symeda and she prayed for Strength. Before they could begin a new she lifted her hands. As she did pulling against the wrist binds hearing the leather creak and groan until the first popped then the second then her legs.  
She lept up from the table and came down with force both divine and her own on the man in the chair driving her elbow through his face.  
Little Kitten had been working frantically on cutting her ropes loose.  
Her sharp little claws working diligently and then as Bakara lept from the table to rain down her justice she sprung free.  
“Psssst cat.” She heard the Halfling whisper hoping the cultists kept busy with the raging orc. “Let me out.”  
Little Kitten scampered to him knowing there were three left so the more help the better.

Bakara’s head raised from the mess of wood and blood, she had left of their friend in the chair and growled in only a way an orc could.  
The three froze not sure where she would go next.  
Freed from his binds Foxor rushed to the nearest distracted cultists and lay hands upon him. Hands of burning fire that turned him to screaming ash as he stood.  
One other turned to face the noise and Little Kitten snatching a dagger from the floor where they piled their things. She jumped forward and plunged it in his chest riding him down to the ground as she twisted it home.  
The final cultist remained still and un-moving in Bakara’s sight, as if she was some beast that would ignore him if he didn’t more. She leaped from her position tackling him to the ground.  
“Wait” He cried as the breath left him “Wait…I”  
His words turned to gurgles as she grabbed his head and snapped his neck.  
“There’s some important information we just missed.” Foxor said dryly.  
Bakara splattered in blood lifted herself to standing. Chest heaving as she tried to regain what was lost.  
Little Kitten tugged her hand to get her attention and handed her armour piece back. Concern for her large friend was apparent behind the soot and small pink flecks of blood.  
Looking at her friend trying to help. Bakara shook off the angst she was feeling and made a joke to lighten the mood. “I want first dibs on this place if it goes on the market.”  
Little Kitten chuckled at her friends statement.  
“Can you see a door? If so lead the way. Just try not to trip this time.”  
Little Kitten poked her tongue out but felt a pang of guilt as she led the Orc woman to the foot of the stairs. Her failure had cos her friend.  
“You go ahead.” She waved “I’m going to poke around.” Her careful clatter of looting was overwhelmed by footsteps bounding down the stairs.  
Heading the barrage of people the three looked up.  
Burt holding a lantern aloft glanced from Bakara to Foxor to Little Kitten who slowly put down the beakers she was adding to chemistry she she had already pilfered.  
“What’s going on? We heard screams.”  
“That was me.” Bakara groaned wiping some blood from her face but making it worse.  
Red covering green and drying to black. Making her face appear more defined than normal.  
“I take it your not murdering random homeowners?” He pried.  
Shaking a weary head she rose to her full height and showed the puncture marks and blood through her gambeson.  
“We found your killers.”  
Valentira came zipping past Burt. “You found the machine?!”  
“I broke the machine.” Bakara corrected.  
“I found equipments!” Little Kitten piped up.  
Valentira groaned in audible dissapointemnt.  
“I'm sorry?” bakara apologise.  
Foxor gathered his staff and Little Kitten took Bakaras hand The three weary accidental heros began to ascend and leave the basement of horrors behind..  
“Your welcome.” Foxor shot as he passed Burt waiting for the various law enforcers to pass.  
The human man ran his hands through his slowly greying hair and nodded.“You did good tonight. Get some rest i’ll see you tomorrow.  
Bakara raised an eyebrow “We are on the payroll?”  
“Independent contractors. Gather yourselves tomorrow's a new mission.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the witch and the cultists were a double mission game because we ran through the first one fairly fast.  
> Bakara walks around a lot of the time oblivious because i rolled really bad perception.  
> in the middle of a card game LK rolled a Natural 20.  
> Foxor is convinced he is going to keep his job for ever and note it is cannon he uses his time bending powers to get everything done.


	3. Never leave home with out a healer.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bakara and Little Kitten venture out on a mission of their own to see if they can get any information about whats plaguing the town.   
> A new character for our merry adventure arrives in town.

Days Ago:  
Dew made the paper signs stick to the notice board Bakara, Little Kitten and Burt stood in front of the Bandit job posting.  
“You’ve mentioned bandits before.” Bakara said shifting her weight and scanning over the other jobs there. Some she recognised still up from their first week in town. Some empty spaces as they had taken care of them. “This must be more than a few hits here or there.”  
A sigh escaped Burt's mouth. “They have stopped all trade in or out.”  
The morning was quiet as he looked over the Orc and the Bastite. Not believing that his career had come to this point. “Bandit leader is who we want, but we will take what we can get.”  
“No one to ask?” Bakara queered.  
“You haven’t caught any one?” Little Kitten reiterated.  
“OH we’ve caught them.” He told the girls with a wild eye. “They just throw themselves on their blade. Off a cliff, whatever they can, to not give up their boss.”  
Lost in thought Bakara scratched the area above her chest scar. Hidden from view under her chest plate it ached deep in her bones. “That’s more than just monetary motivation.”  
He laughed a sort of agreement his eyes following her hand. “You alright?” he nodded to her absent minded tick with concern.  
“Yeah. .. It hurts, but everything hurts at the moment.”  
“Gets like that as you get older.”  
Bakara frowned at his off handed comment.  
He touched the side of his own salt speckled air and nodded to her.  
Snatching one of the longest pieces of her own locks and pulling it out of her braid she saw what he was talking about.  
There in among the strands of mahogany where shocks of silver that hadn't been there before. She let the curl drop and blew it with a minor disgruntled huff.  
Burt chuckled knowingly. “It creeps up on you.”  
Changing the subject quickly Bakara spoke. “So if we have no leads, what can we do? Become Mercenaries? Try and get attacked?”  
“Merchants are still hiring.” Burt plucked the card they had been staring at and handed it to Bakara.  
“Are we going to be Bodyguards?” Little Kitten mewed.   
“Seems so.” Bakara nodded.

They met with the last merchant to place a listing. He sold general goods, nothing special but the girls were not his only hired muscle he was worried.  
A young man by the name of Clint was there. Tall, lean, a bit of mischief to him. His blade an unusual one, paper thin and long. Two archers flanked him silently. They must have all worked together before, judging the three men seemed relaxed near each other but rose to a causal yet cautious alert when approached by others.  
Bill and Bob the archers, were silent and still with large eyes that traced every moment. They reminded the girls of birds of prey standing with their horses waiting for every one to finish getting ready.  
Bakara overlooked the horse one of the stable hands offered her. She swore the old mare balked at her size. Lifting Little Kitten from the ground next to her she felt the old horse sigh.  
“You’ll get sore legs.’ Clint warned.  
“You ever see an Orc cavalry?” Bakara patted the horses nose as she asked.  
He shook his head.  
“Of course not. It's just the infantry and their lunch.” She smirked hoping the human would get the joke. A wry smile cracked his lips as he nodded.  
The horse she patted neighed.  
“Don’t worry old girl for an Orc i’m practically vegetarian.”  
“So no horse? … no human?” he queried with a odd look on his face.  
“No I just say hello first.”  
Clint laughed heartily and slapped her on the shoulder. “Your alright… still going to get sore legs. But alright.” He let them to it.  
Little Kitten patted her friends head from her position on the horse. She had grown use to her friends dry self deprecating humor. As a small cute creature who had never been seen threatening from a glance she could only sympathize with Bakara. She did understand people's ability to instantly judge on face value, and while she never struggled with people fearing her she often struggled to be taken seriously. 

A day they walked. A full day with no interruptions or attacks. The sun rose and dropped and they didn't see a sniff of a bandit or any one for that matter.   
No clouds in the sky, the day was crisp and the terrain gentle on Bakara feet. They did keep a steady pace, fast considering the two wagons that were part of their caravan. The road out of the town wasn't more than a gentle climb, with a dip here and there nothing like the mountain terrain she use to guide her herd through.  
Conversation was kept low as every member of the team was watching and waiting, made worse every moment they went unimpeded.  
Sun sank low behind far off hills casting long shadows from the horses and the wagons.  
Finding a defensible position off the road they set up camp using the covered wagons to protect the group.  
With such a clear day the night dropped in temperature. Nothing held the the heat to the earth and the ground became cold and damp as the night grew dark.  
Little Kitten climbed the covered wagon to dry her paws.  
Bakara took a side glance at her friend.  
“I can keep watch up here.” She defended.  
Bakara nodded  
“And it’s warm and dry!”  
“No judgment.” The Orc laughed and bade her friend a good night.

Throwing her bed roll on the ground she didn't expect to sleep. The hard little roll of fabric that protected her from the ground was a familiar sight she hadn't had to use while staying at the inn or in the new home. One of the first things she brought herself after Gailan had taken her in.   
In the year she had spent training with he human paladin it had gotten well beaten in they had spent more time on the road than not. Showing her more races and lands that she had ever thought about while she was home in her village.  
She had often wondered why Buadagh had loved being a Ranger, now she knew. Travel was invigorating.   
Kicking a rock out from under her left leg. She settled in letting the dark embrace her and the sound of the nocturnal creatures wash over her.

“Psst… Psst… Bakara.” Little Kitten’s head hung off the edge of the wagon. “Some ones here.”   
She tossed down an apple for her pack. “Bakara. They are here.”  
Not so much catching the projectile as deflecting it Bakara waved to her friend silently signalling. She had in fact been woken by her first hails.   
She slid from her bed roll to see the other silent sentinels waking their other members.  
They readied themselves for battle.

The wagons flanked their sides meaning the bandits could only make a direct assault and their sentries had done an excellent job making sure everyone was ready.  
An eerie glow covered them in the early morning. Bakara stood to the front, Clint to her right. The figures in the distance grew with every step.  
Tension mounting Bakara couldn't stand it much longer. She refused to let them control the battle. With a bellow from deep in her gut she charged.  
Clint shrugged but respecting her vigor broke into a run next to her. The leader of the group of bandits slowed a moment in confusion before beginning his own charge.  
His size spoke of an Orcish heritage but his moments were human of training or lineage.   
Were this person from her tribe they would have expected a frontal assault. Atulg an ancient Orc of around 80 seasons use to drum into their villages youth the importance of a good charge. As the old man predicted the spellslinger fell back along with the other ranged fighters, and those that were not so interested in being trampled.   
Their own silent archers began picking off those who had separated from the group.  
Little Kitten waited until the perfect moment and threw her returning dagger. The first shot piercing the spellslinger's hand mid spell and as they looked for the offending weapon it vanished, reappearing in Little Kittens paws. Forcing him back clutching his wound.  
Second shot sunk deep into a bandits thigh, again disappearing.   
She threw again this time her blade found the eye socket of an enemy. Falling he grabbed the dagger by reflexes negating its returning magic.  
“Oh you Fluffing Piece of Dirt.” She muttered under her breath and scrambled for one of the other plain daggers as some of the others were approaching her position.

Swords clashed as Bakara hit the half orc head on.  
Clint at a full sprint next to her, dropped to his knees and into a slide on the dewy grass towards the two enemies that skirted the reach of Bakara and the other orc.  
His thin blade sang as it swung wide and hungered for its mark catching the man running for him, severing his shins from his thighs.  
The one behind leaped and rolled past Clint making a straight line for Little Kittens hiding spot.  
A cry came up as one of the allied archers took out another enemy.  
Lightning cracked over head meaning the spellslinger was preparing something.  
Little Kitten tried to jump her approaching target but was struck with a bolt and fell to the ground.  
Stunned and dizzy, she struggled against the bandit as he raised her from the grass by her throat.  
She scratched against his hand.  
“You sneaky little shit.” He growled shifting his weight to his good leg. Blood freely seeping from the other.  
“I’m going to enjoy this.”

Bakara and the heavy were strike for strike as the lightning rocketed over head.  
Using the divine abilities attached to her blades she struck twice, where there was only time for one. Catching him off guard and slicing the leather protecting his torso. He lashed out pushing her back  
“You’re strong. You should join us. We could use some one like…”   
Before his sentence finished Bakara turned her blades in her hands so the hilt covered her knuckles and tackled him. The full force of her insult slamming into him and sending him to the ground. Without even flinching at his fully encased helm. She reigned down a flurry of blows with her fists. Denting the helm, cracking the helm, caving the helm in on his face.

Like a wet rag Little Kitten hung in the bandits grasp as he growled at her raising her to end her life when a stray arrow from Bill caught her leg with force.  
She played possum. Stopping all struggles hanging limply in his grasp.  
Robbed of his vengeance the bandit threw her to one side, where as soon as she was out of his eyesight she sprung to a defensible position and hurled her bolas to tangle his feet.  
With the bandits mostly dead and twitching and the face of Bakara’s target mostly mush inside his helmet, the orc woman rose to her feet trying to gather herself. She saw the last bandit fall face to the dirt. Snatching the back of his Armour she lifted him and dragged him as he thrashed against her to the merchant, the archers and their slowly gathering party.  
The silent archer Bill and Bob bound him solidly knowing what the captured got up to.  
Bakara looked back over the battlefield the Spellslinger eyeballed her with morbid curiosity. Pointing from his eyes to her eyes as the ground opened up to him. He stamped his staff on the ground, green tendrils of magic sneaking forward touching on the fallen, embracing the dead and breathing a new unnatural life to them.  
“We’ve got undead.” She yelled as the Bandits rose again. Bill and Bob spread out knocking arrows and letting fly.  
Bakara silently wished the damage she dealt to the half Orc’s head would be enough to keep him down but even he rose.   
She covered the short distance to him, his lumbering form now covered in gore, any weapons cast a side, he moved forward possessed by any command the necromancer gave him.  
Catching his arm before he could reach for Little Kitten she spun him to her. She made a wild swing, he caught that arm before it could connect. Little Kitten made a low sweep for the back of his knees, her little dagger cutting a chunk but the undead hulk didn't flinch. He overpowered Bakara, moving his hands from her arms to grabbing her by the waist lifting her into the air and with what was left of his mangled jaw bit into her left clavicle just as armour stopped.  
Writhing against the pain for a moment Bakara felt her body stop listening to her. Her joints stiffened as the paralytic took affect. Her heart began to pump over time but there was nothing she could do as the gurgling mess of an undead half Orc came around for its second attack.  
“Please.” She whispered without words or breath. “Please Symeda, this can't be my end.”  
As the creature came for the second bite closer to the soft part of her throat a white hot light met its teeth as her skin broke. Light poured out of her igniting the creature turning it into a towering inferno as it dropped Bakara at its feet.   
Little Kitten ran forward and desperately tried to pull her friend away from danger. Thankfully the creature stumbled back and collapsed in a pile of ash.   
She fished out one of the few remanding potions she had left in her pack and carefully helped her friend drink, the wounds at her throat began to clot and start to close. The infection that caused the paralysis would take more time but at least she wouldn't bleed out on the spot.  
She made Bakara as comfortable as she could before returning to their captive.  
He sat on his knees facing Clint who held a short sword to his throat.  
“I have one question.” He said “And it’s a simple one, who hired you?”   
The bandit laughed and threw himself forward on the blade. Puncturing his throat though and through.  
Little Kitten leaped to action with the second last potion she had. She was glad in the little bit of down time she learned to concoct her own potions. She shoved it in his mouth and waited for the magic elixir to take effect.   
There was a low gurgle from the bandit then a crack. As his head exploded showering all of them in blood and brain matter.  
“So, I may have botched the recipe on that one.” She squeaked.

The group waited out the rest of the night, though there was hardly any left. Little Kitten found her returning dagger and manually returned it to her self by wrenching it from the bandits eye socket.  
She emptied boots rifled through pockets took anything she could see that was worth anything or looked nice. Turning up a few gold, a pretty gem and a coded note on a folded piece of paper in a boot.  
Bakara’s paralysis wore off just before they were ready to ride out. She kicked the dust pile solemnly, had the face behind the mask been familiar. She hadn't looked long enough to see. Half Orc and Human bandits teaming up was odd. Both sides had many preconceptions about each other.  
The wagons pulled off onto the road heading back for the village Little Kitten back on the old mare following behind. The creamy colored horse nudging Bakara out of her thoughts and back onto the trail.

The large steel and wood gates groaned in greeting as the keepers wrenched them open to let them pass.  
“Didn't get far?” One yelled down.  
“Days ride.” Bakara answered.   
He tisked “Did better than most.”   
She nodded “You heard of many Orcs in the Bandits.”  
His mouth tilted and he shook his head. “No why.’”  
“There was one in this lot. Big guy.” She sighed as there was no point in secrecy. “I’m from a village. A tribe up north, we were raided bout a year ago, they took people.” She chewed the thought. “I'm grasping at straws here but maybe.”  
He nodded. “Ahh… That's no good. I’ll keep an ear out for you.”

***

Rain pattered on the tent in Bakara’s memory.  
Her mentor Gailan sat in front of her crossed legged. Holding her arm, stitching the gash their previous battle left tearing through the flesh of her left forearm.   
They had fought barbarians huge men and woman that had been terrorizing a small village they had been passing through.   
In the last moments of battle, Gailan had been pinned down by a dual axe wielding enemy. As the barbarian swung down for his attack Bakara had dived in to block him swiping his weapon away with her sword knocking it to the right. His other axe came down towards her head. With her shield shattered in pieces far away, she did what she could blocking with her arm. The axe dug deep. She gritted her teeth and used her lacerated arm to lock his tight into her body, she slashed his gut carving a large red stain across his torso.   
He spun her in his grasp, holding her to him in a gigantic bear hug, chuckling in her ear.   
Abruptly the barbarian reeled back. Gailan had used his moment of freedom to drive his sword into his spine. She used the moment to slam the back of her head into his jaw and in the moment he was stunned his arms slackening just enough, she flipped him over her shoulder. Finishing him on the ground.  
“You need armour.” The older human told her his dusky blond locks falling over his face as he worked.  
She winced a little at the stitches. “No I don't.” She looked over her battered clothes, a vest of leather added a small amount of protection to her internal organs.  
“You do.” he bit fixing her fiery eyes with his steely grey ones. “I know you don't believe me but you can't stop axes with your arms.”  
“It's fine it will heal.” The fight came out of her voice she answered sadly and softly.  
His tone lowered in response. “You know I won't always be around to patch you up. If you are going charge into battle you have to protect yourself.”  
She fell silent. The scolding came from a good place. She had done the same when Murzush had chased a lamb down a river to try save it, getting swept away herself. She had lectured her for an hour after she had pulled her out of the river with the lamb because she had been so terrified of what could have happened to her little sister.  
“So why did you do it?” He asked to break the tension.  
She snapped out of her day dream “What?”  
“Jump In front of an axe meant for me.” There was worry in his eyes and for a minute he looked older than his fifty years.  
She laughed to diffuse the situation “It would have cut you in half squishy human.”  
His jaw flexed in disapproval.  
“You are the better fighter.” She said nodding to herself. “I knew if I could hold him you'd finish him off.”  
He shook his head moving from the crude stitches in her for arm to dressing the chafed knuckles.  
"You keep fighting like this and your going to need a Priest."  
"A healer would be helpful."  
"Not to heal.” He said earnestly “To give you your last rights. Keep this up you're going to die kid."  
She sighed. “Armour you say…” She didn't like the look of worry he wielded as well as his weapon. “Ok let's look for some armour.”  
Bakara rubbed her forearm under the chain and leather she wore. They had gotten the best they could shortly after that day but she had brought good armour with her first paycheck in this town. Putting it on then and there in the shop to everyone's surprise.  
Rolling her shoulders as she stood at the door of the hotel, she loosened up her slowly stiffening joints. Between her oddities, and her job bouncing at the hotel they staked out in their first mission for Burt, she had become well known in the town.  
She nodded respectfully to a couple high rolling regulars as they entered. Then as their back was turned made a fake sleeping motion to the barbarian that stood across from her. He laughed quietly under a mask of professionalism.   
Rain trickled over the awning in front of the hotel and crickets sang as the afternoon rolled on.

***  
“Oi there. Your one of those Spite things.” The raggedy old man called out to Adokul, he was bent to a point where he was almost the same height as the Sprite.  
"Sprite. Yes.” He corrected gently. Moving closer to him, this was one of the first Humans to actively converse with him.  
"Not that I'm judging. We getting all sorts in town now."  
Adokul let a placating smile of politeness cross his face. "Speaking of being new I was wondering if there were any houses of worship?" He was new to this town and while he had been on the outskirts for a while, now putting his home together. He new almost nothing about what lay there in.   
"Plenty. Thieves guild have a shrine to Ash and Coal. Smithy has one to ... "  
"I'm looking for a specific deity." He abruptly interrupted the old man  
"Oh.” the old fella looked him over and noticed some of the symbolism on his robes finally “Your one of Symeda's lot. You'll want the Big lass then."  
"The Big Lass?"  
The old man laughed like he should have known. "Yeah, the one with the little friend with sticky fingers. They bought the old cultist place up Jackson road. Sometimes they do jobs with the old half-ling fella, the one with the dog. He's all right, free with the gold, shirty if you litter."  
Ado nodding at the info dump. "The temple?"  
"Oh yeah. If you can call it that, up the hill in the house I'm told. Doors always open. I suppose you get a bit trusting when your... You know." He made a large gesture across his body.  
"No I don't know."  
"Green."  
Ardokul raised an eyebrow. "She's an Orc?"  
Holding up his hands in defense he elaborated. "Not that I judge. She's a Good lass, tries to help out where she can. The only Orcs we see round here are Raiders and the like you know. These new folk Add a bit of colour to the community."  
"Because she's green?"  
"Because she stripped off in the armourers to put on her new set. Not a lot of shame those Orc’s.” He said dead pan. “But I'm not one to judge."

“Little Kitten. Please it's almost noon you have to get up.” Bakara shouted up from the ground floor to the attic room.  
“Noooooooooooo.” Came the stretched reply. “It’s the day of rest so I’m resting.”  
“That’s a human concept and you know it.”  
“Oh go back to your yoga.” Kitten snapped.  
Bakara almost retorted but she heard a light tap on the door fame and the sound of someone clearing their throat.  
She turned to see a figure bathed in light standing politely in the doorway.  
“Oh Hello?” She couldn't make features out as the sun cast them in shadow.

Adokul seemed to interrupt a very unusual conversation between “the big lass” and a disembodied voice from the ceiling.  
She looked pleasantly surprised by his presence, though that melted quickly into worry.  
“Ah Come in. Quickly.” She said hurriedly while making an impressive move of clearing the distance between them, ushering him in and putting herself in the doorway just in time to catch the Munchkin Batiste as it flew through the doorway.  
“Awwww.” Came the voice from the ceiling, finally in its body “That would have worked so well.”  
“This one I think is a guest.” Bakara laughed nervously. “May I introduce Little Kitten.” She signaled to her friend as she put her down. Kitten gave the newcomer a wide berth as she circled him and headed off to the kitchen.  
The Orc seemed to collect herself for a moment before she smiled in an attempt to make him feel at ease he assumed.   
“Bakara Urdnot.” She offered a large hand forward. “How may I be of service.”  
The gesture was a learned one, and very human at that, it was if she had learned pleasantries from some older knight, she presented herself as genuine so he answered.  
“I was looking for a house of worship for the Goddess Symeda.”  
Taking a deep breath Bakara gestured to the lounge area. “I wouldn't really call it a House of worship.” She said her voice raising in octave. “But it’s a house with a shrine.”  
The man who had entered their house was small. Lithe and Fae like she racked her brains for all the races she had been told about by her brother in his travels or Gailan in his training but couldn't pick it.  
In fact on first seeing him with out the back light she felt as though she had seen the ghost of a man that still lived.  
The dusty blond beard and hair so reminiscent of her former mentor in place of stormy steal eyes were bright blue ones, though they carried a similar feeling of age to them. It made her trust him as if we was already an old friend.  
“There was really no one around the town that worshiped Symeda and we came upon this house, it was so big I thought it was the least I could do. Offer a place for those who had none. Offer a hearth.”   
Now they were further inside he cast a more discerning eye over this young orc woman.  
She was un armoured, clothed in low slung baggy pants, a cropped bodice and a very old tattered coat that was made for someone a lot larger than she was.  
“How did you come across this place.” Remembering what the old man told him about it belonging to cultists.  
A hand rose drawing accidental attention to the large lightening like scar spider-ing its way up from heart level out to her shoulders. As well as two large mostly healed bite marks. Her eyes looked distantly to a door to a stairwell.   
“We did a job for the local law enforcement got a good deal.” She cocked her head to one side pulling herself out of her memory. “What about you? In these parts a priest is a rarity. Let alone of Symeda."  
"So is a Paladin."  
She laughed "I'm strange all round."  
“This is where my journey has brought me.” is the only explanation he could offer.  
“Then you must be needed.”  
After a quick tour of the hearth and the small homemade shrine with a few tokens and gifts neatly placed on it. They moved through to the kitchen where Bakara made tea and Little Kitten sat on the backrest of one of the wooden chairs eating an odd looking pastry watching the new comer and listening to the two godly folk converse.  
“So.” Adokul broke quiet. “Why did you become a Paladin? It's not the easiest path, least of all for a person of your measure."  
Bakara coughed at his candor and Little Kitten straightened fur puffing under her coat.  
The Orc patted her friend, calming her before she did anything rash. "My family was taken...” Bakara began that same distant look in her eye as when she touched her chest scar “and I was left behind.” Her eyes came to focus over his face but she wasn’t looking at him, he felt like she was looking at a memory. “I met a Paladin of Symeda who took me under his wing, despite being some of my measure.” She breathed a small chuckle at the memory “Despite me stealing his dinner. So I figured I wanted to be that kind of person."  
"So not for Vengeance then?" He fixed her with his bright eyes bring her into the moment and out of her memories.  
The muscles behind her jaw flexed. "If anything. I would call it justice." She felt her heart beat a touch faster at saying it out loud. “So mysterious stranger.” She tried to change the change and pull the conversation off herself “Do I get a name? In exchange for my life story?”  
“Ardokul Strifelaughter.” He nodded accepting her jab at his curiosity. “It is a Pleasure to meet you.” Mimicking her formal tones from earlier.  
She laughed “Pleasures mine.”


	4. Best-laid plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A hidden camp with a surprise of an Orcish variety.  
> The Halfling lets Bakara in on a little bit of the story of what made him so.

“Foxor. What the Fuck.” Bakara shouted across the town square at the Halfling as he stood over a human man and pummeled the ever loving daylights out of him.  
A few towns people screamed and jumped back. A few more gathered in a ring around them. He was talking to the man on the ground at the same time.   
The three friends began to run toward the commotion. Bakara spied Burt reaching the scene before them.  
“You know this man?” Adokul asked shocked.  
“I … We.. Sort of.” Was all she could stammer in response.  
Police wrestled the two men, the Tiny old one proving to be the more difficult of the two, the younger weasler one saw his chance at the intervention and bolted. To busy glancing behind him he didn't see the solid form of Bakara as he ran into it. She put her hands on his shoulders and held him. Suddenly realising he had run into possible sympathiser of his attacker. He started to panic.  
“Does he do this often?” Adokul ventured checking the man over for wounds greater than superficial bruising. Ignoring the mans protests as the deputies closed in.  
“Unfortunately not without purpose.” She said seeing the Halfling talking to the Burt. The conflict had stopped for now.   
“Let me go.” The man demanded “Now.”  
“Not yet.” Bakara said trying to glean any information about what was going on from the distance. Lip reading wasn't a specialty but sometimes she got lucky with good hearing.  
He struggled one last time. Forcing Ardokul to stop, pulling slightly out of one of Bakara’s hands. A shudder ran down Bakara’s spine and her attention snapped quickly back to what was going on in front of her. The strange man bruised and obviously perturbed reached into his shirt for something. The feeling of dread grew, she pushed back as he grabbed a pendant around his neck and with no more that a wink. Was gone in a flickering blink.  
The space left after his teleportation filled with energy that turned to fire and exploded.   
In less time than it took to burst into flame Bakara took stock. Little Kitten had separated from them and pushing the man back had left her out of the blast radius. Adokul and herself would bare the brunt of the fire, and his robes didn't look fireproof.  
Using her body as a shield she turned to him the heat exploded around her back. She deflected most of the fire away, taking the damage herself.   
Leaving him only singed around the edges.   
He dusted himself off and with a slight healing touch, thanked her for her quick thinking.

They met Miss Castro who from the note and the trinkets Little Kitten found, managed to make a beacon to locate one of the bandits hidden strongholds.  
Foxor had proven his mirth and after subduing a scout masquerading as a shepherd he used his powers to scout the area and turn the tables in their favour.  
“All right” Foxor puffed returning to camp and regaining his breath. Which always made Bakara wonder if his power had something to do with super speed. She looked over the stout old man and didn’t feel it was likely.  
“I’ve fucked with their soup.” He noted to the group “There's a lady with a blindfold probably magic. And a lot of mooks I’m hoping will have the shits later tonight.” His attention moved from the group to Bakara. “There's a big guy with a helmet that's more your speed. But we’ll take it as it comes yeah?”

Bakara relished the idea of taking the bandit camp, a little more than her goddess probably liked. She chalked the feelings up to her Orcish nature finally showing through.  
The scouting Foxor did give them more of an advantage than they had ever had before. He even took her aside for a moment before they set about the task of waiting for night fall and gave her a “go for the throat” pep talk. He never did denote how Orcish the “big guy” was. He probably didn’t know or care.  
A few knew her plight, her search for her taken family and the relevance that held.  
The idea had crossed her mind once that they were take to be used as soldiers or slaves. In Orc history it had been known to happen. The thought had at least left her in the heat of battle as her fought for her life but in the quiet moments it rose to her consciousness.

Night fell, the fist wave entered the hidden camp. Bakara sat back with Adokul waiting for the signal to charge.  
She hadn’t known the Priest long but she could tell their underhanded tactics were grating on his nerves.  
“You know it will save casualties in the long run.”  
He gave her a disgruntled look and chewed over harsh words.  
“Kitten says she’ll stab them but she’ll tie them up… mostly.”  
He began to open his mouth to bestow some sagely advice about her friends when they were alerted to the notion that their stealth party had been compromised.  
“That’s my cue.” Bakara breathed nervously.

Bursting through the shielded gate she saw the interior of the camp. It was bigger than she first thought but Foxor had been right. Most of their number had fallen to a violent sickness and only the beginning of a battle was at hand.  
The “big guy” was an understatement. He was huge, even from across the camp she could see that she would mabe crest his shoulder, though she was more likely under it.  
They were an Orc, pure blood and a size akin to her mate Kidan or your youngest brother Dular.  
“No man can fight from his back.” Atulg’s teachings from her youth rattled around in her head.   
She charged. 

The battle swarmed around her and she payed it no mind. Somewhere in the distance she heard tents ripping, men shouting, magic crackling.  
She had one shot, if she could get this behemoth off his feet she might have a chance.  
Unstoppable force, meet immovable object.   
He caught her locking her hands so she couldn't strike, his iron mask whipped forward and cracked down on the bridge of her nose.   
Her head swam for a minute but she had had rougher tussles while flirting, and Foxors words "go for the throat." Resounded through her.  
No weapons at her disposal and teeth bared.  
She landed a kick to his leather clad torso. He held her in such a vice she could take her legs off the ground without him swaying. She was like a child bating at a mountain.  
One patch of skin showed above the collar of his vest and below the full face mask.  
Broken tusk an all she went for the uncovered throat.  
A shoulder rose to block it she tore away more leather armour than flesh in doing so she exposed the tattooed clavicle and neck of this particular orc.  
Instantly She knew it.  
She knew it as well as she knew herself. The symbols of gods of strength, of honour intertwining from just under chin to elbow. Hidden though his forearms were under bracers she knew that six bands that would be there. Two unfilled, two dark deep black and two mirroring lattice designs. She knew them because they matched the six bands on her own forearm. Dark bands for Bula and Mol the parents, Clear bands for the youngest Murzhush and Dular, Echoing lattice for the twins Baudagh and Bakara.   
This was Dular, her baby brother. A sudden wash of cold ran over her, and she felt a white sensation around the edge of her vision.  
He threw her back startled by the bite, checking to see if she drew blood. Shook and visibly distressed she didn't even defend or react. She stumbled back a pace barely remaining up right.  
“Dular…” She tried to for a sentence of “How? WHy?” but only small sounds came out.  
Brainwashed, or just Indifferent it didn't stop him. He planted boot in her chest and with a kick like an angry warhorse sent her flying backwards. Knocking more than just the wind from her lungs. As she skidded away a rib or two broken, her breath wheezed. She tried to call out. "Hold him." But common language slipped her grasp. Any words she uttered were garbled breathless and in orcish. She tried to right herself, tried to claw her way closer. "Dular, stop."  
Head turned slitless helm looming in her direction.  
His superior called a retreat, her brothers hand grasped the pendant at his neck.  
Ado was rushing to her side to get her to her feet again.   
There was no time to move out of the blast that was coming they both had already felt first hand the explosive nature of that teleportation device.   
The form of her brother disappeared in an unstable shudder and while the surrounding reality paused, new molecules rushed into the space where he was. The collision, causing combustion forcing fire out wards engulfing the surrounding area.  
Bakara gasped inhaling the fire that was wrapping itself around her. Burning her flesh, cooking her inside and out. She fell past the precipice of life, but only for a moment. White Hot pain became white Hot light. Power flowed through her life giving energy restored her lungs, her limbs. She gasped and sat up. Ado sat next to her. The ground around them smoltered. He clasped the symbol around his neck breathing heavily from the powerful magic he had just used.  
She put a hand on his shoulder. “I think I owe you… Thank you.”

The explosion had consumed one half her face. One of her two dark eyes forever changed, made lighter, robbed of the depths of fire, left with the pale flicker of yellow. The fingers of flames grasp left so many tracks across the left side of her face.   
She was healed. Physically fine and healthy but for ever marked.

She searched the dust where Dular had stood. Futile though it was she keep hunting. Her allies had turned the camp over fairly thoroughly, but she wasnt searching for valuables. She wasn't a huntsman but she was checking for tracks, she wasn't a mage but she was checking for magical residue. Anything. Something to be a message from her brother. A few tents got torn in the fray, tossed aside trampled asunder, as time ticked on she knew it was fruitless.  
"Umm Bakara?" Little Kitten squeaked. "I don't think there are any tents left."  
She turned her yellow eye to her friend and watched the dirty kitten wince a bit at her appearance.  
She nodded. "No you're right. There's nothing for me here." and was coaxed back home.

A fire always burned in their hearth since they had taken the lease. She had tried to make it warm and homely for all those who needed one. A salvation where there was none. For herself at least tonight there was none. Little Kitten entered her attic hide away. Leaping up the door frame and through the window in the roof. Bakara trudged inside, of ignoring her normal tidy habits. Tossing her coat on the bench seat arranged like a pew in a church. Her gloves on the next flat surface, weapons on the hearth itself. She stared into the fire, watched it pick at the edges of the huge solid stone piece it was made from and with one final wave of frustration clenched her hand into a fist and struck the stone.

Pain shot from her knuckles down her wrist to her elbow. She clutched her scuffed and bleeding hand and slumped down In front of the fire. Muttering her old code to ease her heart.  
"Blessed by fire, born in fire , I am your arm.  
Sworn to Valor, heart of virtue, I am your hand.  
Strength to the weak, defender of the helpless I am your sword.  
I am your truth, I am your justice, I am your wrath."

***

“What are you thinking about?” Little Kitten chirped coming up on the bench seat behind Bakara the next morning.  
“Hmm?” The Paladin quierrid softly as she turned to her friend.  
“You have your thinking face on.”  
Bakara chewed over the words, her tongue playing with her molars as she did so. “I’m thinking, whats my Brother doing with the people we are chasing. I’m thinking what’s the man Foxor was beating got to do with this, I’m thinking my face hurts a lot. Its pretty messed up huh?”  
Little Kitten tried to soften the blow “Its pretty messed up.”  
“I guess I’m lucky to be alive.”  
“Our new friend is a very good healer.”  
Bakara laughed “What do you get someone who saves your life? A round of drinks? A fruit basket?”  
“Something shiny or really sharp? Something to eat? Oh I could catch a bird?” Kitten added excitedly.  
“Don't know if that gift has quite the reach you think it does. Good try though.” Bakara mused smiling softly at her eagre little friend.  
“Maybe not… “ Kittens sentence drifted. “What you going to do about the HoboWizard man thing.”  
She shrugged. “Talk to him? That man had the teleport pendant. He has to know something right? They are connected.”  
Little Kitten rolled her eyes. “Because that’s going to go well.” She mewed sarcastically.  
“I have to try.” Bakara said softly. “Other-wise what am I going to do… Join my brother? Some covert operation to see what's doing this to them?” The words were said in jest but maybe it wasn't such a silly idea. No, she was a terrible liar with no concept of subterfuge it was a abysmal idea.  
“You think he might be controlled by magic?” Her little friend asked quietly.  
“I hope so.” Bakara breathed leaning on the back of the bench they used as a church pew to look at Little Kitten. “I don't know how but I hope so.”  
“Could be the pendant.” The bastite said thinking back over all the times they had battled these people and things they had in common. “Oh!” She exclaimed “Oh oh oh the Helmet. He had the same helmet as the one from before as well.”  
Bakara sat up. “You just might be onto something there. That will be plan A.”  
“And plan B?”  
“Plan B is pretty stupid, but you might have to trust me.”

In remembering the direction to the cave, Bakara paused outside and knocked twice. "Foxor?"  
The grumpy old man emerged from the cave. Chewing his dinner with more attention he gave his guest.  
"I've interrupted you. I'm sorry. But I need a moment." She was trying to be polite, it did not come naturally. For the sake of everything she was trying.  
He cast a look over urging her to get to the point..  
"Look, I don't know what your damage is, and I know I am not the sharpest axe on the battlefield but I have enough sense to know something made you..." She paused and gestured to him in his entirety, and sighed heavily hoping her grasp of common was as good as orc ish.  
"Some of what caused that , showed up in town and was connected to that camp we hit." She looked around for a rock or log to sit on so she could be more his height. Lacking anything she plopped down on the ground.  
""You don't view me as much, that's clear from your actions, and we've spend more time arguing than working together but... " She paused collecting herself. "Part of my damage, of what made me, ..." Again she gestured, this time to herself "... Was in that camp."  
She looked up locking his eyes with her newly created mismatched ones.  
"They have fucked with my family and I have no leads except you."  
"What do you mean lead?" His eyes narrowed.  
"The man you bludgeoned in the street, he had the same exploding teleportation device as, those in the camp."  
“Oh, right.” He mused almost flippantly “Yeah, Charlie. He used to work for me.” He paused and his normal disdain returned ‘That's not a life I really want to get back into though. I've put that aside for this long, I don't need to ruin the good thing I've got going by bringing THAT mess down upon me.”  
"Then bring it upon me." She ran her hand down the good side of her face her voice wavered taking the normal timbre out of it and rendering it a lot softer and effeminate than normal. "The big one, the one you told me to go for the throat. My brother. He shouldn't be there."  
“Well, if I had my way, nobody would've been there.” He Bit. “I built my way up in the criminal underworld. Pickpocket to a proper thief for hire to runnin my own racket. I was big. Herd of Goliath?”  
Bakara stared blankly. “Assume I lived in a secluded mountain village all my life.”  
“I wasnt young when I was doing this, but I got there I made it 20 years in and after a few distractions I….” He paused in the most human gesture she had ever seen pass his face. For a moment she was sure he was about to be wholly honest with her and himself. “I lost it all.”  
The moment passed business returned to usual. “I lost it all to a man by the name of Alexander. Now, I'm pretty sure that Alexander's running this particular ship in an attempt to get a monopoly on bringing goods into town.”  
Another emotion passed the Halflings grubby bearded face ,one no to far removed from mania, something of a creative gleam as he ran through what could be his rivals plan “Scare off half your competition, shut out the rest, and you've got a solid profit.” He paused to argue with himself. “It'd be unusual. Alexander took over my 'businesses', sure, but he’s run them in a legitimate fashion for over a decade, as far as I can tell. If he's decided he can make better money by doing things like I used to, then he's got access to some of the most well-trained people working in the crime industry today. The people he took from me have been running schemes since before I was in charge of them, and if they're turning to that again, they won't do it by half-measures.”  
"So who's rolling Orc villages and turning their inhabitants into brainwashed soldiers?" She interjected roughly into his ramblings  
“He may just be paying well.” He insinuated far too easily for her liking.  
She shook her head "My village burned, any one they couldn't catch, they killed. You can't tell me there is enough gold to erase that."  
“You'd be surprised what bribes and threats of unspeakable violence will do to a person.”  
“We Are Orc’s.” She snapped every word.  
“Anyway,” He waved the hand that held the bowl his meal finished “That's what I know, which is essentially nothing, until I can get some more snooping done.”  
Bakara nodded feeling more than defeated. "If you can keep me In the loup. I would appreciate it. Forgo the “I work better alone” bullshit and tell me. Let me in on the plan. Sometimes I may even hold the guy you want to pummel. That's all I ask."  
“Who said I work better alone?” He snapped Missing her point “I just work.”  
"I guess that's a close to an answer as I'm going to get." She rose from the ground and dipped her head "You know, for someone who lost everything. Maybe even every one, you think you'd do better at holding onto what you have."  
“And what's that?”   
She looked down at the weathered old man his eyes scrunched up with suspicion. She shook her head and smiled “Never mind. Thank you for your time.”


	5. Questions and More Questions.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> after a little interrogation the party learns where next they have to head.  
> A second meeting with a family member. Bakara finds out some problematic news.

“Dular .” She whispered to try not wake any more of her siblings “Psst Dular. Go back to bed.” The small Orc stood in the frame of their hutts door looking out across the smattering of hutt’s and houses. She wasn't sure if he was sleep walking or actually awake after the week that they had. He had only been walking a year, still with no tusks and chubby legs practically a baby though he liked to tell everyone how big he was.  
“I go find Ma and Papa.” He looked up at her, dark eyes glittering in the moonlight that spilled into their hut on the warm night.  
Kneeling next to him a sigh escaped her. “You can't go where they went Little Bear.”  
“No I show you, I go.”  
She took his hand and lead him out into the night. Quietly through the streets out the path she took to herd the sheep and a little way up further into the hills.  
There the stars and the constellations spilled out across the blackened cloudless sky like so many scattered grains of sand. She picked out the shapes Marfu the shaman had taught her.  
“See these stars.” She pointed to a cluster. “They sort of start here ,and they make an Orc. A great Orc,” She traced his shape in the sky. “He is Wogharod. He is Wisest, and governs over Death, magic, and war, he comes for the bravest of us and takes them to his hall Iodedin.”  
“Iodedin? Is a hall like our hall.” He asked  
“Like our hall on solstice but greater a million times over. The walls have all the best family shields. Fresh boar every night, drink that never ends and all the other most nobel fearsome and strongest warriors are there too.”  
“So I No go?”  
She tried a sad smile to reassure him. “One day. A long time from now when you are old and have been a great warrior for many years then you will go. But don't go any sooner Little Bear.”  
He nodded. “I’ll be best Warrior. You’ll see.”  
Bakara put her arms around her baby brother and looked to the stars, she could see the Constellation of Shel, wife of Wogharod, weaver of destiny, Spinner of fate. She sat in quiet meditation and hoped, no prayed for strength. 

“Bakara are you listening?” Little Kitten whispered.  
She was pulled back to reality by her friend swiftly and away from that quiet night on the hill top in her village.  
“And by that.” Miss Castro finished with a flourish. “Is how I managed to use the amulets you stole Little Kitten…”  
“Looted.” She corrected.  
“... you Looted to triangulate, through a combination of science and magic Two possible campsites.”  
“You found two camps?” Bakara perked up at the notion.  
“Well I found two possible teleport location weather they are caps is another story.”  
“Where?”  
Miss Castro unrolled a large paper map. She pointed to the middle of the thickly overgrown forest and further into the mountains.  
Adokul leaned over the table next to Bakara. “We have captives we could question?” He mused quietly while he looked over the map.  
Burt nodded and then caught Bakara’s eye. “Who’s he?” He mouthed dipping his head in Adokuls direction while Little Kitten pushed passed under his own elbow. Foxor joining the table with less proximity.  
Seeing this Sprite for at least two days in a row he figured he was at least a semi permanent fixture to the group and should learn at least his name.  
“A field medic.” Bakara joked sheepishly. “And a rather good one at that actually.”  
She turned away as Adokul introduced himself. Using the dimly lit lab to obscure the scared side of her face.  
She had noticed she had been doing more of that, as she still hadn’t come to grips with all that had happened herself.  
Scars were a matter of pride, like tattoos they told a story of who you are and what you fought for.  
All this scar said was she held on for too long to something that exploded.  
Burt continued after introductions. “It's true we do have captives, three in fact.”  
Foxor looked at her intently. “You should interrogate them.”  
Bakara chewed her lower lip a minute. “I’m better back up.”  
He raised an accusing eyebrow.  
“I’m only scary until I open my mouth.”  
“I thought you’d jump at the first hot lead we had?”  
She huffed shortly knowing what this was about “I don't want to Blow the first hot lead we have. You forget how readily they throw themselves upon their blades.” Her good eye drifted back down to her elbow. “No what we need is someone impartial and non threatening, with maybe a good knowledge of first aid.”  
Ado turned to her slowly. “Why are you looking at me like that Bakara?”  
“Actually she’s right” Foxor chimed in realising the direction the young woman was taking. “You’re nice, they probably didn't see much of you in the fight. You could help us establish the triggers.”  
“You could be our baseline.” Bakara’s face was more gentle than the Halflings. As hers was more of a question than Foxor’s expectation. “Please?”  
Adokuls eyes narrowed. “I don't like it when you two agree.” But reluctantly he picked up a clip board took a deep breath prepared himself as they walked to the cell block.

“Good morning. My name is Adokul Strifflaughter and i”m going to ask you some questions.”  
His voice trailed off as the door to the interrogation chamber swung shut.  
Bakara huffed, She paced passed the window a few times before crossing her arms and leaning against the back wall.  
“He’s drugged, He’s bound. Calm down.” Foxor told her firmly, missing the mark on being comforting and just sounding like he was annoyed at her fidgeting.  
She could see the back and forth between those in the cell and the raider was getting agitated his eyes were darting around the room like some invisible force was going to out him.  
Bakara stood up.  
“You see his face.” She crossed the room and pressed up against the window.  
The man’s face was contorting against the words he was saying, cheeks reddening struggling against some spell with all his might.  
“He doesn't look well.” Little Kitten mewed nose squishing against the glass.  
“Is his face turning Purple? Foxor asked, his sentence disappearing behind Bakara as she left them. Hand on the door to throw it open. She caught the beginning of the word Alex then a sudden squelching crack ricochet off the solid walls as the raiders head split apart, showering Adokul in bits of grey matter and blood.  
Bakara who had rushed into the room expecting to break up a fight or defend her friend from some form of attach suddenly burst into laughter at the scene.  
The immediate danger washing over her. Relief and hilarity left in its place.  
Adokul was not as amused and with an equally grubby left hand tried to wipe the gore from his face. Only to smear it further and shook the bits of brain from his notes and quill.  
Gently lifting a piece of skull from Adokuls hair Bakara gave him a consoling pat on the shoulder and moved forward to look at the mess. “Did you get the word?”  
“I got Alex.” He wrung out his sleeves before rolling them up and began pushing his way through the remnants before pulling out a very cracked piece of jaw.  
“I think I know how to stop it from happening again. If I show you the tooth you think you can pull it out.”  
Bakara cracked a smile. “I'm down for some jail cell dentistry. But …” She looked over the slowly drying blood spattered man, who looked like he had just waded through a massacre. “You should change.”

Armed with the knowledge of the location of the explosive harm and the knowledge of what they were looking for Adokul and Bakara entered the second jail cell.  
“I ain't telling you nothing. I Ain't.” Their captive babbled as Bakara tipped him off his chair onto his back. “Arrg what are you…?”  
Ignoring his protests she pried open his jaws and stared into his maw full of weathered and blackened teeth.  
The priest pointed out the molar with etchings, some runic magic that began to glow faintly with their tampering.  
“Quickly.” He said.  
Bakara jammed the pliers into his mouth gripping the tooth and with a foot on his chest ripped the tooth from his jaw followed by a scream that ended in a whimper.  
‘The fuck is wrong with you?” He mumbled through a bleeding mouth.  
Bakara eyed over the tooth. “It will make a good trophy.”  
“Crazy bitch.” He spat some bloody saliva in her direction.  
She shrugged “yeah, but this next guy. He’s crazier.” She shot him a menacing broken tusk grin and Disappeared passed the silhouette of Foxor in the door.  
“You’ve heard of the name Goliath.” Foxor practically purred to the startled young man as the door creaked closed behind Bakara.

“Did you really have to lead him in like that?” Adokul asked her, a disappointed lilt to his voice.  
“It's not a lie.” Bakara responded almost flippantly. “I genuinely think he is crazy.”  
She put the tooth in Adokul’s hand pausing for a second. “Maybe if we’re scary these lackeys will start to believe we can be a challenge to their bosses.”  
“You believe that?”  
Her eyes raised to his for a second. “I have to. There's too much in this to loose.”  
The Priest sat at the table and placed the tooth in front of him. His hands either side of it.  
“You alright after all that?” Bakara asked pulling the chair around to sit next to him. “I didn't mean to laugh.”  
“It’s a startle reaction.” He waved it off “ It’s better than throwing up.”  
“You’ve seen someone do that?” Sitting up bemused by the statement.  
“I’ve seen a lot.”

Through the glass they could watch the captive pale even though Foxor didn't move or threaten but something in his words gained a respect derived from fear.  
He emerged from the room leaning on his staff and gathered them around the little table  
Bakara and Ardokul had been occupying.  
“The locations, Science-mage found are camps. The mountain camp being more for industry, the forest for moving stock through, using the forest trails”  
“That’s where we should hit first.” Bakara suggested as Burt entered their little meeting to see how they were getting on.  
“We have an advantage with it being your forest after all.” She said turning to the Halfling.  
“I’d have an advantage in any forest” He snapped.  
Bakara rolled her eyes.” That’s what I mean. You could walk in and raise one hundred trees if you wanted.”  
“Why would i want to raise a forest? I can create a distraction by being an old man”  
“On that note.” Bakara said not rising to his words. “A central distraction isn't bad. They had at least one sentry last time. I bet there would be more at this camp. If we had enough man power behind us and we can strike at the same time as the distraction and then rush the central camp taking it by surprise.”  
“That.” Foxor began. “Is actually a good idea. Actually that’s the first idea you’ve had that’s made any sense.”  
Bakara felt backhanded by the statement but took it for the awkward compliment she thought it possibly could have been.  
“Is our mercenary friend Clint still available for hire? He’s a good hand in a battle. And any other merc’s?”  
“I’ll put up five hundred gold, to sweeten the deal. And it will have to be sweet.” Foxor said flatly, knowing they would have to have a decent pot to entice anyone into the unknown mission they were looking at.  
Bakara nodded, he had a point. “Actually ah.” She made a mental tally of her own savings. “I can add five hundred to that too. So make it one thousand gold the more people we have the easier it will be.”  
Burt left them to rustle up the swords for hire and the band of them let themselves out of the cells and into town.

They packed and readied themselves for the short trek to the camp, Clint back in the fold along with his two archer friends. Burt returned with four young men.  
“The Ryan brothers.” He waved them into the throngs of contractors. “Their brand of mischief around town proves they will be a good stealth crew.” He told Foxor as Bakara had disappeared. “Well good luck.” It felt odd not to see them all off, but they were adults he didn't have to check on them all.  
“That’s a point.” Clint said sidling up to the Halfling. “Whose in charge here? You or the big one?”  
“Who ever is most right at the time.” He grumbled and walked off.  
Clint shrugged he had worked for worse and Burt was good for the pay. He saw Bakara surrounded by their new soldiers with Little Kitten on her shoulder.  
“Why you put up a thousand gold. Is it hard?” The first young man asked.  
“Quite likely.” She responded. “The truth is we don't know. Which is why we offered up so much.”  
“You think we’ll die?”  
Bakara traced some of the deeper scars on the left of her face. Remembering what happened last time. Remembering the strength in her brothers movements. Remembering the woman with the blindfold and her magic crackling through the camp.  
“I mean we’re only here because mum needs the money to save the farm?”  
Little Kitten watched Bakara's eyes open wide and she could almost hear the internal scream.  
“I’ll keep you four alive. I promise.” Her head bobbed with fervor. “ We have a plan. It should keep everyone safe.”  
When she was a little way away. Little Kitten overheard her mumbling “We have a plan. We can do this.”

Following Foxor and the direction Miss Castro had given them they quietly traversed Foxor's lush green forest until they came to the track of those that acted as first watched for the camp. They had traveled through the better part of the day and only the last dregs of sun scattered through the canopy to paint faint orange streaks on the leaves below. Dusk was going to aid their cover.  
“We all remember the plan? Foxor whispered.  
“I’m not a fan of being on sentry eradication. I'm more of a run in and smash things person.”  
Quiet Bill patted her shoulder. “We’ve got this I’ll get you there.”  
Silent Bob pared with Little Kitten, and Adokul hunkered down at camp as his part of the plan was only there if all hell broke loose like last time.  
Kitten, Bakara and the archers prowled the edges of camp, one in each direction. Little Kitten elegantly dispatching her target with a stealthy flying dagger.  
Bakara while not as quiet was guided expertly through the brush by Bill and he got her right up behind an poor unsuspecting sentry. The guard spied her a for a split second, but she snapped his neck faster than he could scream, and dragged him into the woods. 

Foxor's task was less strenuous in the fact that he was meant to be seen, but worse in the fact he had to be a convincing distraction while people were first wiped out in the forest. Then slaughtered in the camp.  
A dottery old man, a quirky character from a children's tale approached the two men on watch by the fire. Not Foxor. He had on his grand hat, filled with plumes and a brim wide enough to look both impressive and preposterous on his Halfling form.  
He bustled and chattered with the men. When given food he offered herbs and flavour enhancers and kept them occupied. When one of their stealth team stumbled, not killing a mark fast enough he tripped and spilled the pot of soup on the fire.  
They still didn’t suspect him. But the rest of the camp was beginning to rouse. He knew from experience soon they were going to lose control of the situation. With one of the young men close to the fire he whispered under his breath “No hard feelings.” and he used the power of control nature to wrap around the fire and rekindling the embers sent a tower of flame up into the sky.

Bakara’s head shot up as she sat waiting with Adokul. A tower of red and orange shot up passed the tree line and into the gathering night.  
“That's a signal.” She breathed looking at the height of the temporary inferno.  
Adokul nodded  
Adrenaline surged through her system. Nerves contracted in her stomach. Her brother was here. She could feel it, a gentle realization was dawning that to break the spell she might have to hurt him. If she could.  
She knew shock had a lot to do with her inability to fight him last time.  
She had twelve years on him, that meant a lot to Orc’s more now she had succumb to the cultists machine. He had a warriors training not only that but whatever this cult had taught him in their year apart as well.  
She flanked wide watching the chaos of burning bandits and scuffles with their own mercenaries, catching sight of the Blindfolded woman. That was a player she knew she wanted off the field her area magic was strong and unforgiving and with her brother nowhere in sight she made a grab for her as she came out from between to tents. Reaching forward a large green hand closed over her arm and yanked her from her defensive position almost pulling her from her feet with the motion.  
“Back again for more punishment?” His voice echoed with a metallic twang distorting its depths.  
“I’m here to save you Little Bear.”  
His huff sounded like steam pouring from his helm as it hissed beneath the meal.  
“Save me? You cant save anyone.”  
She reversed his grab on her and struck his leather clad chest to gain some ground and take control of the area they were fighting in.  
They circled each other coming more to the central area where the fire still burned. Adokul had used shape fire to create a flaming badger that was tearing through bandits and tents alike orange light cutting through the darkness lighting up their friends.

She turned her blades the hilt covered her fists. Protecting her knuckles as she swallowed the lump in her throat.  
He readied himself “We aren’t play fighting now Kara.”  
She launched at him aiming for the head pushing the punch through from her back foot. He parried knocking it a side like it was nothing.  
She popped a jab forward of her front guard and the helmet rang as her fist connected. He took a step back to right himself as he did she tackled him.  
He was ready and caught her arms. Locking her shoulder to shoulder, arm to arm.  
“You serve them?” He growled into her ear. “You obey their Laws? It makes us weak, they rob us of our destiny.”  
“That’s not how you were taught.”  
He snapped his response “No but it should have been.”  
She tried to sweep his leg but he saw it coming. He dropped his hold on one of her fists and cracked her across the jaw following it with a swift kick under her ribs. She tasted blood.  
“You and Beau, Just the same. You’re just taking a little extra work.”  
“What?” She stuttered through the lost breath. “What did you do?”  
“Isn't it Obvious? I killed him. And gladly too.”  
The pain in her chest was strong enough to drown out the ringing in her ears.  
Nothing in her brain connected to anything in her body she froze as ice fingers tracked down her face and down her spine.  
He moved to rush her take advantage of the moment but a flash of white and black pulled him off track as Little Kitten attached herself to his bare shoulder biting and scratching as she went.

Bakara snapped to attention as he wrenched the catlike form from his body and threw her towards his sister.  
Like she had done it a thousand times before she caught Little Kitten and positioned her so she could grab Bakara's shoulders and take her spot all while moving into Dular’s space.  
She struck once then twice each shots ringing and damaging the helmet that held him captive. That made him a faceless tool or so she thought.  
Finally pieces splintered away.  
He took a step back and pulled the last remnants of metal from his face.  
It was still him, He was still young and handsome with dark eyes like their father looking at her with disappointment.  
The helmet wasn’t the control.  
As if with the same thought her eye lowered to the amulet that he had used to teleport away last time. Foxor’s golden retriever jumped at his owner's command snapping the gem in its jaws. Dular barely noticed the slight. The dog bounding away with its prize.  
Dular’s eyes locked with hers, “You’re as worse than Beau. Look at you defending the Little people. What made you so soft.”  
“I was always Soft.” She exclaimed voice breaking. “I was a Fucking weaver!”  
He looked down on her ,she wasn't sure if the scorn came more from his past memory or her current visage.  
“And you make it worse by praying to a foreign god. You are no Orc. Why did you throw away our culture?”  
“To find you!” She cried exasperated. “To find all of you.”  
‘Then why are we Fighting?”  
“I DON'T KNOW.”  
She halted the volume and intensity of her words surprising her. “I dont know.”  
“So stop.” He said softly coaxing her to put down her weapons.  
She sheathed her blades and their sharp steal visage melted away into her spindle and distaff. “You’ll let them leave?”  
“No.” He shook his head and the soft voice he had been using took on a cold tone. “Kill the stragglers.” He ordered.  
“Stop!” She shouted command over her voice returning. Despite the moment of panic “No more death.”  
“You have killed a lot of ours, we have to make up the debt.” He told her as if it were business.  
She changed tact. “By your rhetoric they were weak and we just did you a favour.”  
The two orcs had not broken eye contact they remained still and intense. She could almost see a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. The fighting wound down to nothing around them. Confused bandits were standing down, grouping back to Dular and the carts.  
“I made a promise.” She sad “So if you want to start this again…” The statement hung in the air as a gentle threat he wasn't sure about.  
“We can't just walk away.”  
Her shoulders moved in a nonchalant shrug that was a lie to cover up the thumping in her chest. “Leave them here, what does it matter. Let me walk with you.”  
His posture changed with mild surprise. Head twisting to look at her differently, quizzical and a touch un-trusting. “You will have to prove your loyalty.”  
She nodded stoically, Little Kitten growled at her side, she placed a hand on her friend and pushed her into place behind her.  
The bandits began stacking the wagons with the un-burnt and undamaged stock and began backing up towards his witch and wagon.  
“You know where I live.” She called.  
“I’ll send a guy.”  
Taking the opportunity she asked “Wouldn't one of your contact gems be better?”  
“No I’ll send some one.”  
She took a deep breath and nodded “Until next we meet.” and watched as he rolled away.  
“We stopped?” AdoKul asked “You made ground? A truce?”  
“They are getting away.” Foxor shouldered past him starting as spell in the direction of the bumping wagon.  
“Hold off.” Bakara held a hand up in front of him. “I made a deal. Stand down.”  
“But they are taking everything.” He protested.  
“Yes”  
“They are getting away.” He urged not understanding why she just stood and watched, while their tents burned down to embers and anything of value drove away from them.  
“Yes.”  
“Bakara What the Fuck!”


	6. The Bonds we make.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bakara's heart is heavy with guilt. Torn between duty and family she asks for wisdom from those she trusts.  
> some times its the Family you choose not Blood that comes through.

Torches burned outside the sleepy sheriff's office for the first time in a long time.  
The crescent moons hung lazily over head and Bakara sat on the steps leading up to the building, head in hands, she stared at her feet while the other talked around her.  
“Bakara broached a truce.” Adokul told Burt. “Maybe she could fill you in on the details?” His eyes ran over the forlorn figure, mental anguish was a lot harder to cure than physical pain.  
Bakara’s head shook like it weighed one hundred pounds.  
“No. You get up and you tell him why you let them go.” Foxor barked like he was talking to a petulant child.  
Bakara stood up in a single swift thrust of her legs raising to her full height for once.  
“I need a minute.” She said voice robbed of its power.  
“For what?”  
Her jaw flexed as she looked down at him. “That was my brother alright I need a minute.”  
“If you don’t tell them they will Kill your brother.”  
She managed a dark chuckle. “No they wont.” Before pushing passed him and stormed out into the night. Frustration was on the rise and that lead to anger and stupid things she wanted to be away before she did anything she regretted.  
Burt side eyed Little Kitten who despite normally having an insight into the actions of her large friend, shrugged.  
Adokul exhaled deeply. “She will come round.”Almost as if he knew.  
Foxor grumped and left with a similar tone to the Orc but in a different direction.  
Burt, Adokul and Little Kitten were left looking at each other in confusion for a moment before taking leave of each other and getting some well deserved rest.

Bakara walked the early morning away. As a Shepherd she had weathered herself to long weary trudge across field or stone watching heards, this had served her well over the last year as she had been on the road since her village was attacked even during her Paladin training. She had never in her young life thought she would become so soothed by travel and the vagrant lifestyle  
A faint twinkling of stars flickered in the night sky as she caught glimpses through the canopy, and a soft wind pushed early morning bird song and animal noises from the deeper reaches of the forest to her.

~  
“What are you thinking about Beau.” She sat next to her twin knocking him as she did. The sheep grazed below them as the morning sun stretched out across the plain sharp and bright in the warm morning.  
He made a non committal grunt and shoved her back.  
“Seriously your starting to compromise your work. Tell me or go back home.”  
He rolled his eyes and made a face at her. “They did the ranger trails yesterday.”  
Eyebrow cocked she asked. “Do you want to be a ranger?”  
“I want to…” He stopped and chewed his lip for a minute. “I want to see what’s out there.” He gestured to the land below their hillside and further. “You know? Don't you want to?”  
“Ma’s tribes out there, remember their motto? You keep what you kill.”  
He frowned and shook his head “You don't think they are all like that?”  
Bakara shrugged.  
“You know the elders were saying theres races out there of furry people, and that some of the little folk live for hundreds of years. You can’t tell me thats not, interesting.”  
Bakara smiled at Beau’s big dream.  
“Are you meaning to tell me.” He asked earnestly turning to his sister, seeing almost a perfect female reflection. “You have never thought of what your going to do.”  
Bakara’s face hardened. “This is what I do.”  
“Sure, but forever?”  
The future was a concept that made Bakara uneasy. The way people talked the future was a long time away and yet to her it all seemed so close. Mortality was something she had been struggling with since her parents died, and she was suddenly aware of the fact that it was very uncommon to see anyone in the village older than sixty seasons and the twins were closing in on one third of that already.  
“You want to be a ranger?” She answered finally. “So what do we have to do?”  
Baudagh explained Marfu’s trial. How the shaman took the chalice of Wogharod and hid it so only through investigation and tenacity it could be found. Bakara gnawed a knuckle  
“I have an idea, but it’s not a great one. It’s going to get us into lots of trouble.”  
“Us?”  
“I’m not letting you have all the fun.”  
~

Bakara had walked through the night thinking on family and specifically Baudagh. Sun streamed through the canopy as she came upon a medium sized tree that had been hollowed out into a house. Adokul's house, she had been told where it was in passing, and her subconscious must have brought her there.  
She wiped the blood off her lower lip, and rubbed the split a few times to make sure it had stopped bleeding, Fixed herself up so she didn't look like she had been bush waking all night. She knocked three times in quick succession.  
"Yes?" Asked a middle aged human woman as she opened the door. Behind her Bakara could see a large open room with an eclectic work-space, kitchen and a small sitting area with stairs leading away and up into the tree.  
Bakara was taken aback she had only knocked because she thought some fate had led her here, she hadn't prepared herself to talk to anyone else. "My name is Bakara." She fumbled through pleasantries "I'm Adokul's friend from ... work?"  
"Hmmpf, can't say I know you.." The human woman bit while eyeing over the Orc, Bakara was amused not many humans were brave enough to do so.  
Adokul's voice called from upstairs, "Who is it Matilda?"  
"A young lady by the name of Bakara." She called back her eyes not moving.  
"Ah, Bakara what brings you here today?" Adokul asked coming down the stairs. A few books in his hands, one open on top that he had been skimming through. He closed it and placed them all on a rather full but relatively organised sideboard and looked to his housekeeper. "That will be all today Matilda, take the rest of today off, thank you."  
She left with no more said and a simple nod to her employer. Adokul taking her place at the door.  
The young paladin took a deep breath and tried to gather her words before speaking.  
"I know you were not keen on the raid." She came out with "but thank you for your support." She paused for a minute dropping to a more casual tone. "Can I use you as a moral sounding board."  
"Oh of course paladin, come in so we are not discussing with the whole town." He gestured inside. He lead her through the house, she was cautious of her surroundings though it seemed to be built at human height so not too restricting. "Conflict must be avoided if it can, in this case it could not. For the most part i support what your trying to do."  
"There was an aspect of that battle you missed, yes?" She asked gently lowering herself into the seat offered. It was a touch low and her knees rose up high, she leant forward and rested her elbows on them. Watching for his response.  
"I believe I am missing a lot of pieces to these troubles." He began meeting her gaze to put her at ease. "But I feel no evil in you or the others cause, so I am willing to help as I may. If I learn more, then so be it.. regardless, I will lend aid still."  
She breathed a sigh of relief. As if half her tension was bound to his thoughts in the matter. "I haven't been a paladin long, in case you haven't noticed..." She licked her top teeth and began at what she felt was at the most important part.  
"I love my family." Her tone was forthright and solid. "I raised my family when my parents got themselves killed. Baudagh and I, teens at best, The other two, a child and a baby"  
He nodded slowly.  
Common tongue didn't cut it for the emotion she wanted to convey. There were too many words to many concepts she wasn't comfortable with. "I'm telling you this in the hopes that you understand why I reacted the way I did. My family was close, my village just as close. These people they took my whole tribe." Her head tilted and she found a spot on the floor to stare at. "The one I let go, Dular. My youngest brother. The day the village was sacked was the festival where he was blooded. The elders had foreseen his greatness, a new generation. Something has changed.”  
Her voice shook as she tried to reign in her feelings.  
"At first I thought it some magic, he talks of a reckoning, of rising up against those that make us weak. That I'm a fool for siding with the Little Folk." She shook her head head.  
"I was desperate when I told him I want to join him, to stop the fight, to stop him somehow, with out strength." Her head rose and he could see her anguish. "I realize I can't beat him physically, so I had to find another way. I have been offered a place with them before. I think my chances to find the rest are doubled from the inside. I need to see if they are also as influenced or if any one can be saved. My moral dilemma is I will need to prove my loyalty. Is it worth it for the greater good. "  
Adokul quietly settled deeper into the cushions as his blond brows knotted with thought. "Hmm, You seem torn between family and your cause, this may create problems down the line young paladin." For the second time theirs eyes met, ice to flame but this time it was to drive home a point. "A paladin should not lie, and going undercover is well....lying.. To people who will cause harm yes, but still.."  
"He killed Beau." She whispered and looked down at her feet. "He said he killed my twin, my blood. What if he kills more. My sister Murzursh is still unaccounted for and Kadan." She chewed her lip. "What's a lie if it can help so many more than just who I named."  
Her emotions were raw and genuine, he felt for her plight but knew where the path of such emotion can lead. "They never said this path would be easy."  
"No." She sat up "and it's my mistake to correct. I should have raised him better. I thought I had."  
"He is still an Orc as you are still an Orc." He said as a statement of fact, as a whole the Orc's he met were neither good or bad people, but they were capable of extreme action in either direction, fueled by a strong sense of duty and sentiment.  
Bakara's jaw flexed and she exhaled like she had been punched.  
"Alright, I came here to be enlightened and ... I guess I have. Thank you for your time" She stood to leave in such a swift motion she had made it three strides to the door before he could respond.  
"Kara wait."  
He watched her body freeze at the name and quickly remedied his mistake "Sorry, Bakara. You misinterpret me."  
She still remembered how in the early days Foxor hadn't acknowledged her person hood and it had stung deeply. She turned slowly to give Adokul a chance, he did deserve the benefit of the doubt he had never shown her any animosity before.  
"You Feign incompetence in battle but it's there in your blood, in his blood." He explained. "You yourself are passionate and loyal to your family and to your tribe." He enunciated carefully rising to his feet and bridging the gap between them. "The lies this group are spinning feed those traits, they offer you things our way of life can not."  
Features softened as a realization dawned. "You think In going undercover I might actually join them."  
"I don't want to see you fall."  
She lifted her right arm up to her chest and pulled of her glove and unlaced the sleeved on her mail.  
"This is my family." She passing her left hand over the tattoo. "Dular and Murzursh here at my wrist. The black lines are my mother and father. These two in the middle. Beau and I." The two bands were heavily patterned and a perfect mirror of one another.  
"We were born two moments apart, we had never spend more than two weeks away from each other." She sighed "I loved my little brother, but if what he says is true? Even if he attempted and failed, that is unforgettable, unforgivable, and requires justice by Symeda or Orc law." She exhaled then laughed a little. "I wouldn't worry about me defecting. I would worry about me being a terrible liar." She smiled a lopsided smile trying to ease the intensity she had brought to the room. "I'm probably going to need someone to come in and save me when they bust me. After all you saved my life I'd hate to just waste it."  
He smiled softly "I would hate to see my hard work ruined."  
The shared a small moment in the humour before she sensed it was a good time to leave. "Thank you. I won't bother you much further."  
"Before you go," He asked. "Who called you Kara?"  
She shrugged. "Every one." She lied, playing it off as nothing. The truth was Little Bears big sister was Kara, only ever Kara. The others had picked it up a little but it was his pet name.  
"I will try not make the slip again ."  
"No it's fine." Again she smiled plunging up the twinge in her chest as she thought about it. "It's nice to hear it again. Makes it feel like I haven't lost every one." That part was truth.  
"I've been there." He said solemnly and as she raised a quizzical eyebrow he elaborated. "A paladin with a tough decision. I've been around for a while so if you need someone to sound out ideas I'm here."  
She chuckled at the weathered but youthful features giving her sagely advice. He was maybe a few summers older than she was. She felt her age and spoke it especially taking to the likes of Little Kitten, but the he spoke like the elders of her tribe, and that couldn't be right.  
"You can't be that old,"  
"One hundred and twenty. Come the solstice."  
Bakara choked on her laughter.  
Adokul had lived four of her own lives. He was forty years older than the oldest Orc she had ever met, and he was bent in half and covered in scars ancient and wrinkled, nothing like the spry handsome fellow that stood In front of her.  
"You're looking good." She shook her head. "Very good." She laughed a little and headed back to the door.  
"Go see Burt" He added trying not to seem too amused or too authoritarian. " You owe him an explanation."  
She saluted before letting herself out.

Bakara didn’t follow Ado’s suggestion as directly as he would have liked,  
She took a moment at home to procrastinate with a morning routine despite not sleeping. ”This time you only have yourself to blame.” She told her reflection in the wash bowl. “You went in knowing what you would do.”  
She dusted her coat off and made an effort before leaving for Burt’s office.

She greeted those she knew on the way in but kept her head down.  
Her own walk of shame.  
Knocking softly on the door frame she smiled sheepishly as the law man looked up.  
Entering at his command she glanced around the sparse office and stood with her hands behind her back before his desk bowing her head.  
“I… Fucked up.” She uttered bluntly. “Well … I may have given us an opportunity.” She paused still studying the hardwood floor. “I let my feelings get in the way of the objective, for that I am sorry.”  
“I on the other hand didn't fuck up as far as I know.” Came the small voice from behind the door. Abandoning her attic perch she pursued her friend, given Bakara’s state of mind of late she decided to keep watch just in case. She poured herself into one of the spare arm chairs and sat at her pleasure while her friend stood at attention.  
“She did well. They all did well.” Bakara’s voice was soft but solid. Her quarrel was with her own behavior not anyone else's.  
“We may have even won it were it not for Dular and their blind spell-slinger.” She scoffed under her breath “For Goddess sake he killed me once and he killed….” She cut herself off mid sentence, it was far from her favorite words to say.  
Meeting his eyes for the first time since she entered the room his brows knotted in concern and with out a word he reached into his desk had silently pulled out a rather impressive flask of amber liquid and a few glasses.  
“Righto Let it out chief.” He poured her a tall one and looked to Little Kitten.  
“You have a fancy bottle of milk in there?”  
He shook his head and poured her a short glass, before pouring himself one almost as big as Bakara’s.

The young Orc woman clasped the drink in her hand and rolled the words around on her tongue. She hadn’t drunk since the night of the attack as if one pint could have made all the difference.  
She shrugged and took a large gulp of it trying hard not to cough at the burn behind the liquid. At least she could hide any watering eyes by taking a quick swig she thought.  
“I came here to look for my family and Tribesmen who were taken by the dark clad bandits. You know that much.” She offered.  
His head bobbed slowly behind his drink.  
“Well, We have found one.” She breathed heavily and audibly. “Twice. But he was on the wrong side.”  
“He’s on the asshole twat side.” Little kitten spat remembering the bitterness he spoke about the “little people.”  
“One of your tribe is with the bandits?” Burt sat forward and placed his glass down. Mind ticking over possibilities. “Do you think they would help you? Or do you think they are lost to the dark bandits….” His words drifted off as his eyes came to focus on her face. As he was speaking her shoulders dropped and her head moved to the right to emphasize an eye roll exposing the left side of her face.

When Bakara first arrived to bail out the cat he had been amused to learn she was a Paladin.  
Fresh faced, a little weathered but excluding one chipped tusk she looked more like the resident milliner than a fighter. Orc’s that had breezed in and out of town were bald, grizzled, tattooed and scared. The scars as important as the body of tattoos that sported their battle history.  
More like a green human than any Orc he had met. Bakara, now with one eye robbed of its depth of colour and her left side a map of scar tissue ley lines she looked more Orcish than ever.  
“He’s the reason for.” She signaled to the burn side of her face. “He’s stronger than me. Faster, Better. He spent his life training to fight.” She swilled the glass and took another larger than normal sip. Feeling her hands and feet tingle.  
“I thought he was under a spell. Turns out he’s just a traitor. .. or we’re traitors.” She chuckled darkly “he had some very big plans.”  
“Well Shit.” Burt sighed and downed his last mouthful before pouring another much larger. “You said something about an opportunity?”  
Bakara sucked air through her teeth. To call it an opportunity felt like a lie. “He told me he killed our brother happily. I can’t lie I was shaken.” She sipped for a minute. “The only thing I could think of asking was What if I join you?”  
Burt was silent finally understanding the confusion of those left out of the conversation. How anticlimactic the battle must have been for Foxor and the others.  
“He wanted to even the death Toll but I made a deal so we could all walk out alive.”  
Little kitten Giggled “She’s got the bleeding heart problem.”  
Bakara side eyed her friend whose lid’s were droopy and her words slurring slightly at the edges.  
“I know how she feels.” Burt mused. “It’s not a bad plan in the short term at least. Cant see you living the bandit life though. What if he asks you to Prove yourself? Can you take an innocent life?”  
He began topping up his own glass again, while glancing at the time. It wasn’t even mid day yet he shook his head and continued.  
“I’m sorry about your brother. Are there any leads on your sister? Maybe she’s far from his reach?”  
Shaking her head slowly Bakara replied. “They were all taken together. The best lead I had was that man Foxor was thrashing. He had the same Exploding teleportation pendant. Beyond that I have nothing. Its in Dular’s hands. I left him with the notion I want to join. He will contact me in due course. I guess we go from there. I’m no liar, By choice or other but I’ll try if I have too.”  
“I’m perfectly happy to lie.” Chortled a very drunk Little Kitten “No one Trusts me anyway.”  
Burt smiled at her while his eyes unfocused over his glass.  
“Life can be hard. So we have to be harder.” He pulled a binder from a different drawer in his desk.  
“Prove you’re self how?” He muttered to himself. “How will he contact you?” He flipped pages and began reading the words.  
“James? No to violent. Tim?” Some more fluttering “Tim's dead… shit how did I forget that? Kara?” He looked up sharply. “We can do this. I need a week. Keep yourself true. In a week I’ll have what we need.”  
Bakara sat back in her seat, startled by sudden fever, his jump to action Helped ease the rot that settled in her gut since the second meeting of her brother.  
“I believe we have the second camp Miss Castro talked about to hit. I shall busy myself with that in the meantime.”  
“Yes, yes in the mountains.” He didn’t look up. “My rangers say there are a lot of wagons heading in and out. It seems more like business than a bandit camp.”  
“They are taking a lot of things to prepare for this Reckoning they are planing.” She told him.  
“If you play it smart you wont need to fight your way in, which is just as well we’re a little out manned right now.”  
“Smart? You remember your talking to an orc right?” a wry smile snaked from the corner of her mouth to emphasise the joke.  
He snorted disapprovingly. “I know orc’s you may be big but you’re not dumb.”  
“I will try keep my head about me more, and my heart in check as well.” Little Kitten chuckled and slipped off her seat to standing swaying with an imaginary swell. Bakara offered an arm to her drunk friend and lifted her to a shoulder. Burt stood and came around to the front of his desk. “together." He began “We can be stronger together. That’s what this town is for. We grow together, stand together, when needed we will fight and die together.” “I like that.” Bakara smiled. “Alright. Take her home. I’ve got work to do.”. “Thanks, it’s been awhile since a place felt like home, just then It did.”  
"Take the bottle." Burt smirked smiling and extending it to her holding the glass by the neck.  
"One of you will need the hair of the dog."  
"Bleh dogs." Muttered Kitten

**Author's Note:**

> Not for Vengeance takes place in the mythical land of Aijalon.  
> it is a brilliant home-brew pen and paper RPG I have been playing with some friends for a number of years.  
> Bakara is the first character I created with Nuance, purpose and Backstory. Aijalon is inspired by and pays homage to many different fandom drawing from both fantasy and science fiction.  
> Games are played bi-weekly or as players can sacrifice to the necessary gods to allow them to meet. Up dates will happen in down time.  
> Little Kitted created by Pastelpuff  
> Bakara Urdon myself  
> other player characters featured are Foxor Grassthorne and Adokul Strifelaughter.  
> Burt, Miss Castro, the Witch and any other NPC's created by our ever tolerant DM


End file.
